


Build A Better Bucky

by callabriel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bookstore, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because angst happens when Steve Rogers acts like a dummy, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bookstore Owner Bucky Barnes, Bookstore!Bucky, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Eventual Shrunkyclunks, Gay Steve Rogers, Light Angst, M/M, Music because Bucky like it... ALOT, Peggy Carter is Black Widow, Shrunkyclunks, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark Friendship, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin, Steve and Bucky are clueless dorks, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Tony might actually be the assholey voice of reason for a change, some food and clothing and interior design porn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2020-02-09 17:23:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18642652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/callabriel/pseuds/callabriel
Summary: A billionaire walks into a bar...And Bucky Barnes gets a couple of offers he can't refuse.First from a guy who wants a kiss and the second from a guy that wants a heart.Both will change his life forever.





	1. A Billionaire Walks Into A Bar...

**Author's Note:**

> I'm supposed to be writing something else but this is coming out first. So I'm rolling with it.
> 
> Google tells me tugodum means slow poke or slow witted in Russian..
> 
> The other two Russian phrases are also Google translations and are almost immediately translated in the text. 
> 
> Snakehips and The Hics are real bands that I highly suggest you check out. Maybe I'll make a playlist for this at some point. 
> 
> A word about "my very gay friend": Tony is being an ass. Pure and simple and the over use of this phrase and why he approaches Bucky in the way he does will be explained in the next chapter. Hopefully. And by that I mean that hopefully it will give context to his inexcusable assholery. 
> 
> V. E. Schwab is one of my favorite authors. If you've not read her. Do. It. Now. She's amazing and you pretty much can't go wrong with anything she's written. 
> 
> The savory oatmeal is a real recipe I saw and thought about trying but haven't yet because I'm a wuss. I like the idea though so, Bucky gets to eat it for me. 
> 
> And last but not least, there is a not a posting schedule for this so if you want to stay tuned, please subscribe. I'm working on this and another fic (mostly to avoid writing a third that I'm stuck on) so posting will likely be erratic. Just keepin' it real.
> 
> If you would like to be my beta, please message me! 
> 
> Tag suggestions welcomed. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Bucky met Tony Stark at a bar in Manhattan. He was out with friends that had dragged him into the city to celebrate some random life occurrence or another. It was his turn to buy the round so he’d gone to the bar and placed a ridiculous order for his party of fifteen. Bucky was just explaining to the barkeep that he needed, literally, a hand carrying things back to the table when suddenly there was a strange hand on Bucky’s left side _(the bad side),_ resting on the stump of the shoulder that nobody touched. When he looked up from that hand to curse out whoever had the gall to touch him there _(of all places)_ , Tony Stark was connected to it. He had been too stunned to react in enough time to shrug him off.

“You are amazingly hot” Tony led with, he later learned, what his friend told him to say. _(_ _Stupid)_. 

Bucky’s mouth dropped open for a fraction of second before closing into a puzzled frown. _(Huh, wha…?)_

“At least my very gay friend tells me you are. Look, here’s the deal, Abercrombie – I’m on a scavenger hunt and one of my items is to make out with a hot gay guy.” Here Tony waved a hand up and down in Bucky’s direction, “You’ll do.”

Bucky is nonplussed. _(_ _WTF…?)_

“I’m not gay.”

“But my very gay friend says you are. He said he could smell the gay on you from across the bar.” Tony leant in and sniffed. “You smell… more expensive than expected. That’s super gay.”

 “I’m bi. That’s not the same as gay and I am not making out with you!” Bucky finally got his shit together and knocked Tony’s hand off his shoulder stump, though not as forcefully as he might normally. He wondered if he should just leave the bar and go back to the table but the drinks weren’t ready. He couldn’t really figure out why he wasn’t more pissed about _Tony-fucking-Stark_ having his hand on such a sensitive part of his body, because this should have him swinging but… it is _Tony-fucking-Stark_. At least he’ll have a weird story, right?

“Bi is dick friendly. So, what is it? The arm? One armed bandits are sexy too. I can roll with it. You can fondle me one handed, it’s cool.” Tony pauses and looks around like he’d rather be somewhere else but totally right where he is at the same time before leaning in, which amuses and unnerves Bucky in equal measure. In a conspiratorial tone Tony says, “Would it help if I told you, I think you’re hot too? For a weightlifting dude-bro with a sports model face. Besides, it’s for charity.”

When Bucky raises his eyebrow at this last comment. Tony raises two fingers in the air.

“Scouts honor, champ. It’s for the VA. My very gay friend insisted. He’s convinced I’m too self-absorbed or some bullshit like that. Made me sign a fucking contract to complete. Come on, twunkie, help a brother out?”

Bucky laughed despite himself. How the fuck did totally hetero Tony Stark know what a twunk is?

“What’s in it for me?” He’s pretty sure that this is going to end badly but… story to tell, right?

“You get the singular pleasure of being my one and only gay experience?” Tony winks and rocks back on his heels like it’s the best offer of all time.

Bucky just raised his eyebrow agsin and shrugged, turning back to the bar.

“I’ll make you an arm!” Tony blurts magnanimously, “And it won’t be some plastic-y mannequin bullshit. I’ll make you into a real boy.”

Bucky turned slowly back toward him, all mirth gone. Tony held up his hand as a preemptive measure.

“Nope, I’m good. I get enough bruises wearing the suit.” As he turned to walk away Bucky called out.

“Really? You’d do that for a kiss?” He can’t tell what face he’s making but Tony Stark is suddenly looking very uncomfortable, like he kicked a puppy while the entire Avengers team looked on in disapproval.

“Why you got a better option?” he quipped, trying to take the mood back down to a playful level. He flips out one of his cards. “Forget it, this is taking way too long. If you were a chick, you’d already be giving me a bj in the men’s room. Call me. I’ll arm you. No kiss required.”

Bucky reached out and hauled him in with his good arm and laid a hot kiss on Tony Stark like no one could possibly be watching. _(Tony will later admit to his very gay friend that it was a pretty nice kiss and that if he ever wanted to explore the D, that he’d fuck the shit out of Bucky Barnes.)_

The thing was, everyone was watching. The entire bar had become riveted to the scene: Tony Stark lip locked with a guy that look like he walked out of a fashion spread. Not only had Bucky's friends finally started looking for the round of drinks only to discover their one-armed friend lip locked with Iron Man but Tony’s very gay friend was also watching.

There was video to prove it.

* * *

 

Natasha texted him the next morning while he was still “recovering” from the hangover that had happened after he’d been plied with drink after drink by random strangers as a congratulation for kissing Iron Man.

Bucky didn’t think it was much of a coup. His head definitely agreed with him.

He blinked at the notification on his lock screen with the intention of ignoring it but Natasha Romanova was not a woman you wanted to ignore. He unlocked his phone with the pin code and dialed her back without reading the message.

“What do you want, Tash?” he growled without heat.

“I want you to take your head out of your ass and look at your Insta, James”, she growled back.

James Buchanan Barnes decided that a scary Russian hanging out on the phone or not he was going to have a pity party for at least ten or fifteen seconds. So he let out a long, dramatic groan, quickly followed by an equally lengthy sigh and then closed the call screen and opened Instagram.

“James, the mold between your ears is growing mushrooms, get a move on. _tugodum_.”

“Yeah, yeah… Why do I put up with you again?” he said as he scrolled through his apps to open up his Instagram. There was a little red dot with a number with a K after it, letting him know that a post on his account has gone viral. He doesn’t remember posting last night but basically having an open bar served to you… well, he can’t be sure that he didn’t post to his account. He finally gets the app open and taps on his profile.

Then he sees it.

Someone _(himself?)_  had posted a video of the whole kiss and it’s HOT. Like he can tell that he did not fuck around with Tony Stark’s gay kiss cherry. And the whole bar had been cheering by the end. How did he not remember that? He hadn’t been drunk at all when he’d kissed the man. His table had only been a round and a half in.

“Well…. Shit!” he complained down the phone line.

“You never did answer”, Natasha commented, as if he hadn’t spoken.

“Never answered what?”, he replied absently while watching the whole debacle play over and over on his account. The crazy part was that he couldn’t have shot the video and the angle was wrong for it to have been someone in his own party. He continued on before she could reply. “Tasha, who shot this?”

“Exactly the question I’ve been asking you since last night, James! You don’t know?”

“No, Tashenka, I don’t know. I know I got pretty drunk but I don’t remember doing this. I’d have to have gotten it from whoever shot it and aside from getting rounds from people I never the left the table. Not until that last bathroom run right before I left with Sam.”

“Hmm…. Maybe Stark hacked your account.“ she mused.

“Maybe you’re paranoid”, he said. She was _so_ Russian sometimes. “This isn’t the KGB, Tash. It’s a stupid kiss for a weird scavenger hunt. The only reason why it’s news is because Tony Stark kissed a one armed dude. It’ll die down.” 

At least he hoped it’d die down. All he needed was for the shop to be associated with this madness. He went to the settings and deleted the post.

“Hey! I was mildly entertained by that”, Natasha protested a few seconds later.

“Well, I’ll be mildly entertained by this not being linked to the shop”, he said testily.

“Yes, James, I know it’s bad for the shop. It’s still funny. Drink some water, take an Advil or two and get off my line.” She replied evenly.

“You called _me_ , you crazy Russian. I’m going to hang up now. I have a date with the back of my eyelids. Ugh.”

“Later, Yasha.”

He didn’t bother to respond, just hit the ‘end call’ button and rolled over and went back to sleep.

Bucky found the business card a few weeks later in the pocket of the leather jacket he’d been wearing that night. He stuck it under a “WTF” magnet made of scrabble tiles that lived on the side of his fridge and promptly forgot it was there.

* * *

 

A few months later, Bucky was sitting in his home office looking over the end of month sales report for the bookstore he co-owned with Natasha. Midway through his travails, he found a post it note from her on the paperwork that read: не забывай есть, яша! _(don’t forget to eat, Yasha!)_

So, he had pushed aside his work and made his way to the kitchen to make a sandwich. Upon discovering that there  weren't any cold pickles in the fridge, a search through the cabinet to the left of fridge yielded a jar that was not past its sell by date _(thank God, tuna without pickles was sacrilege)_.

Once he got it down, he used the jar opener attached to the bottom of the cabinet and nearly upended the whole thing onto himself when he lost his grip for a moment, all but dancing in place as he made his valiant pickle rescue attempt.

The jar ended upright on the counter but the lid was on the floor and a healthy amount of pickle brine had splashed across the counter and the floor. It was times like these that he really wished he still had two arms. _(Tough luck, Bucky Barnes. You’re a one armed wonder. Suck it up!)_ He sighed and bent down to pick up the lid from the floor. When he stood back up he was facing the left side of the fridge.

A lone, white business card with only a Manhattan phone number graced the side of his faux stainless fridge _(cheaper than the real thing and easier to clean)_ with WTF floating above it on neatly aligned wood tiles.

_(OH. That.)_

Bucky had firmly put his run-in with Tony Stark out of his mind. He felt it was the only logical and adult thing to do. Really, what option did he have? He could worry it like a loose tooth or scrub the inclination to touch it from his mind. He chose the latter. _(Less mess, less embarrassment.)_ Now he was faced with the memory of getting up close and personal with one of the most notorious people on the planet.

Nope. Nothing doing.

Sandwich.

End of month sales.

Done.

He mopped up his messes both on and off the counter. Took care of the pickles, ate the sandwich and went back to his reports.

The next morning as he puttered around the kitchen making coffee and getting his breakfast of savory oatmeal together _(fried egg, soy sauce, and scallions, don’t fucking @ him!)_ , Bucky thought of the card again.

_(Fuck!)_

Now it was back in his conscious mind he couldn’t stop thinking about that number. _(‘I’ll make you a real boy.’)_ And didn’t he want that? To open a jar with two hands instead of one.

Yeah, he was fucked. But he ignored the worried tooth tickle of it against the middle of his thoughts and pushed it as much to the edges of his mind as he could. Instead he made lunch _(Curried chicken salad rolled into a lettuce leaf wrap with a couple of honey crisp apples on the side. He decides to pack a little almond butter for one of the apples, in case he got snacky later in the day.)_ Getting ready for his work day was more important than lingering on something that was way too good an offer to be true. Never trust a billionaire offering you the moon while drunkenly completing a scavenger hunt. Nothing good can come of getting your hopes up in that scenario.

“Knock it off. Get ready for work, Bucky.”

Sometimes he has to have these little pep talks with himself to get his shit into gear.

So. OK.

Shower, shave, dress like _(Natasha always says)_ a sexy librarian: grey slacks, a pearl grey button down with one sleeve pinned and the other rolled up and an intarsia v-neck sweater vest with a tonal tie and his tortoise shell glasses from Warby Parker _(so he had his hipster moments, sue him)_.

As Bucky made his way back through the kitchen to grab his lunch from the fridge, he stopped and pulled the card down and tucked it into the the pocket of his button down.

In the car he put Snakehips on and added the number to his cell, then connected the phone to the car’s Bluetooth. His hand hovered over the dial button for less than a second before he set the phone in its dashboard holder.

_(Take a breath. Go to work.)_

The drive is uneventful. But his mind is back at the problem of Stark’s ridiculous offer; pushing and pulling and wiggling the idea around until by the time he reaches work he’s a chaotic pile of nerves.

He jiggled his keys as he walked up and let himself in the back door, he jiggled them some more as he passed Natasha’s office and walked into his own to deposit his bag and keys, only to take up a pencil and tap it restlessly on his thigh as he walked towards the break room. Natasha followed behind him humming.

“Somebody put an ant colony into your briefs this morning, Yasha?” his friend asked as he entered the break room to store his lunch and grab another cup of coffee.

“More like my brain. I blame Tony Stark.”

“Tony Stark? How’d he get into it? I thought the ‘Bar Incident’ was no man’s land?” Natasha drawled this last bit out as if he wouldn’t be irritated by the entire line of questioning anyway.

“The ‘Bar Incident’ _is_ no man’s land and I wasn’t talking about that. He… he gave me his number. Told me to call him-“

“What?” Natasha stalked over to him. “You never said. Are you serious? _Tony Stark_ propositioned you?”

“Yeah. But not like that. He.. He offered to make me an arm.” 

He poured himself his second cup of the day. Need was not the word he'd use to describe how much it was in order. 

“Oh, Yasha! You dope. Believing anything he said to you that night in the bar is a cluster fuck of the first order. _Uberi svoyu golovu iz svoyey zadnitsy!_ Don’t even think about calling him. You’ll only get your feelings and your pride hurt.”

Bucky nodded but his mind’s eye was filled with white linen rag and an elegant sans serif font face with seven numbers that might change his life.

“You are ridiculous, James Buchanan Barnes, and I wash my hands of you. Don’t come crying to me when Tony ‘World’s Finest Narcissist’ Stark doesn’t even remember your name, let alone that he promised you a fancy arm.” She made a hand wiping gesture and turned to leave him to his coffee but she paused at the door.

“You’re still you, Yasha. Nothing less.”

He nodded again, this time with a lump in his throat, even though she didn’t stick around to see.

_(Nothing less, huh? Tell that to the pickle jar. Or the string of guys that liked his face but didn’t want to deal with his scars and the nightmares.)_

He needed caffeine. He needed sugar. He needed to get his head out of his ass _(hadn’t Natasha just said so?)_.

With that he put two spoons of sugar in the raw in his coffee and made his way to the office. He had work to do, a business to run; his staff would be in soon and he needed to get the tills ready for opening. He scrubbed his hand over his face.

_(Nothing less.)_

* * *

 

He decided on The Hics for the ride home. He had leftover French onion soup in the fridge when he got back that he could reheat for dinner. It had been a good day. They had set up an author visit with V. E. Schwab, which was a real coup for their little shop. Sales were good and he and Natasha had finally built a strong team of people who all seemed to get along well with each other and who all had a diverse range of reading interests that worked well for their reader’s advisory sales goals.

He’d even managed to forget about the awkwardness this morning over the business card. Of course he was thinking about it again. He wasn't going to call. Natasha was right.  _(She usually was.)_ He probably won't pick up. Or remember Bucky's name. He'd probably laugh. 

_(But what if he didn't forget??)_

_(Fuck it.)_

“OK Google, call Tony Stark.”

_“Calling Tony Stark.”_

_(Don’t pick up, don’t pick up…)_

_“Well, if it ain’t Buckaroo Barnes. Took you long enough to call. I’ve gone through 34 prototypes since I saw you, slacker. You wanna come up tonight or is your schedule too overloaded with book deliveries and cooking classes?”_

Bucky blinked.

“Hello?”

_“We're past that part. Tell you what. Meet me here on Wednesday. Say 2pm. Well get the initial fit up. And wear something nice. Not that stodgy librarian get up you’re usually in. I got someone to introduce to you.”_

“I can’t come on Wednesday, I have to run my shop.” Bucky stuttered in reply.

_“What’s good for you? Sunday?Bookstore is closed on Sunday. Still 2pm. Still don’t dress like a dowdy schoolteacher. Dress like you’re hot. Not for me. I’m hot but I don’t think your ready for this jelly. You still with me Barnes?”_

“Yes.”

_“Good. Don’t be late.”_

The call ends and the sound of Roxanne Dayette and Sam Paul Evans’ intertwined voices floated back through the speakers again.

_**All we’ll know it’s just how good it felt** _

_**Before we burn this to let it all go** _

_(Well that feels a little too close to home.)_

“OK Google, play Shake It Off by Taylor Swift.”

_“Shake It Off by Taylor Swift, sure. Playing Shake It Off by Taylor Swift on Spotify.”_


	2. Out of the Rubble, Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets Bucky but Bucky does not meet Steve...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this chapter one way and it took a turn out of my hands. All I could see was Cap wringing his hands singing the "I don't deserve this" jig. So - a little bit of angst? Not a lot and I'm sure not for long. Bucky is hurt and there is a description of his post violence injuries but it's not super gory, because yuck. That's the only thing in this chapter that might need a warning. 
> 
> About Dr. Nakamura: this is my best friend since HS family name and I'm basing her no nonsense but kindly demeanor on that lovely lady. So, yeah - OFC in the hizzy but she's not hogging the spotlight.
> 
> I apologize for any typos or errors. I don't have a beta and I'm winging it. Do you want to be my beta and reign me in? Please let me know!

The first time Steve Rogers laid eyes on James Buchanan Barnes, he was a stranger with no name buried beneath a pile of rubble, moaning weakly for help; his soft voice was almost lost in the post battle cleanup noise. But Steve and his freakishly good serum enhanced hearing had heard him though, had painstakingly cleared away the fifteen foot pile of building debris he was buried under until he was freed.

Steve immediately saw why the man was so weak: his left arm had been sheared off just below the shoulder joint by the jagged edges of a car door that had been ripped from its hinges and thrown, probably by the army of strange, robotic aliens that had attacked that morning. The car door was still standing upright; its outer edge wedged nearly a foot into the ground beside the nearly unconscious man.

  
Steve’s heart broke _(yet again, it was a constant, wasn’t it?)_ for the stranger in that moment. He hated seeing civilians dead, or worse, like this man, hurt and alone, far from everyone they loved. Maybe fading into death without ever seeing their faces again. Regular people like this man were forever getting caught in the cross fire between bad guys and aliens and… superheroes like the Avengers.

  
_(You’re moping, Rogers. Get a grip. This guy still needs your help. Back to work.)_

  
“Tony, I need a medical team ASAP, there’s a civilian here with a severed limb and severe blood loss. Can you get someone to my location immediately?”

  
“You got it, Cap.” After a brief pause, Tony continued. “Team 2 is on the way. Dr. Nakamura is coming with a trauma kit. Do you need a medical transport to get the civvie to the hospital?”

  
“Yeah. ” Steve replied.

  
He sat down in the rubble, next to the man and held his right hand, squeezing gently, murmuring soft reassurances that he’d make it but – if Steve was being honest, he wasn’t so sure. All he could make out was that there was a lot of blood, dirt, sweat, and the man had shoulder length hair which was matted around his face and neck. It wasn’t a pretty sight but Steve held on, keeping his voice soothing and positive even though he felt anything but.

  
He wasn’t sure how long he waited there but it seemed like an eternity for Dr. Nakamura’s team to show up. When they did they firmly pushed Steve aside and told him to go help elsewhere but he couldn’t move. He needed to know the man was going to be okay.

  
“I can give him some of my blood”, he said to Dr. Nakamura almost absently as he watched them get the wound sealed and they moved him to a stretcher to carry him into the now waiting medivac.

  
Dr. Nakamura shook her head ruefully.

  
“You know we can’t let you do that, Captain.” Her voice was firm but not unkind. He nodded. He did know but he always hoped someone would slip and let him save someone with it.

  
“Tony, do you need me? I want to make sure this guy’s okay.”

  
“No, do your thing, Cap. We’ve got it from he-“, Tony was cut off as he switched to another channel.

  
Cap jogged after the med team and laid a hand on Dr. Nakamura’s shoulder. She jumped a little.

  
“You scared me, Captain Rogers! Did you need something?” she asked anxiously.

  
“No, I’m going to join you. I want to see that he gets settled properly. Just wanted to find out where’s the best place to sit to stay out of you and your team’s way.” He truly didn’t want to be a nuisance and he knew she’d steer him to the right spot.

  
“Right here on the end, next to the door. Don’t touch anything and try not to talk too much… And can you turn off your comm? Sometimes they interfere with the equipment.”

  
Steve took a brief moment to let them team know he was going offline and then hopped into the medivac, sitting at the end of the seat that ran the length of the transport and doing what he was told.

  
Once they got to the hospital, Steve got the man a private room to be taken to after he was out of surgery. They had him down in the OR for a few hours before they brought him back to his hospital room while Steve was gone to the cafeteria to get a coffee.

  
He was just coming back as Dr. Nakamura was stopping by the room to consult with the nurse.

  
“Hey, Doc, how is he?” Steve asked softly.

  
Dr. Nakamura drew him outside the door again to speak with him.

  
“We’ve stabilized him. His arm has been cleaned and all the dead and damaged tissue and bone fragments were removed. He’s got a multiple broken ribs, a tibial fracture, contusions. It’s a damned miracle, there weren’t any severe head injuries. He'll be here for awhile; he’s going to need considerable time for recovery. And I thought you might like to know that we also found his identification when we removed his clothing and his family has been notified. A sister lives here in New York but she’s on an exchange semester in England right now and his parents have to fly in from Indiana.”

“What’s his name?” Steve asked glancing over at the bed.

  
“James. James Barnes.” Dr. Nakamura replied. She set her hand on Steve’s forearm gently. “Are you going to sit with him? He could probably use the company.”

  
“Sure… Yes. Yes, I can stay with him.” Steve glanced toward the bed again. The man looked small and frail wrapped in the thin white cotton hospital blankets, with tubes and hoses hooked up everywhere. He looked vulnerable and small; Steve knew what that was like to be in the hospital all alone with no one to wake up to. Staying here with James was the least he could do.

  
Dr. Nakamura patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and then left to go on her rounds. Steve padded softly back into the room, set his coffee on the side table and pulled the visitor’s chair closer to the edge of the bed. When he sat down, he reached for the coffee and then turned to face the bed. He stopped with the cup midway between the table and his lips.

  
The man on the bed was beautiful. Even hurt, pale, and still as he was, the man was almost painfully handsome. Covered in dirt and blood as he’d been, Steve had never gotten a good look at him. It hadn’t helped that his hair was down to his shoulders and had covered his face most of the time that Steve had been looking directly at him. Now he could clearly see the sharp cheekbones, square jaw, the cleft in his chin, a wide full lipped mouth that looked made to smile, thick, well groomed brows that stood over long, and thick lashes that any woman would kill for.

  
Steve’s breath went out in an involuntary whoosh. A knot formed in his chest; it was a thing that was huge and hard and pushed at his ribs, an invisible but unrelenting force that he didn’t understand or have a name for. That instinct he had to stand up for people that couldn’t stand up for themselves kicked in so hard that he nearly started in his chair. He just knew one thing: He was going to protect James Barnes until he woke up and went back to his family. Maybe even after that. Maybe until time ended and the world was a husk that could no longer be identified as a planet. James Barnes was his to protect now and… (forever) until he couldn’t do it any longer.

  
He settled in with his coffee and sometime during that night he told James Barnes who he was, what had happened to him, and all that he hoped for his future because he wanted the man to know who he was. Then Steve told him that he wanted him to live, so he could see him alive and well and smiling in the world. And that he’d do whatever he had to make sure that James was taken care of.

* * *

Steve woke up with his head cradled on his own arms. He vaguely registered someone calling his name and sat up abruptly. The hospital bed of James Barnes loomed in front of him, a miniature mountain range of crumpled blankets and slumbering human.

  
“Huh…?” he queried, groggy and disoriented as he tried to get his bearings.

  
A hand came to rest gently on his shoulder. He looked up. Tony Stark was looking down at him with one of his rare, unguarded expressions. He looked… fond.

  
“Tony. What are you doing here?”

  
“Checking in on you, Capsicle. You never came back to the Tower last night and your comms were still off. Why are you holding vigil? I thought you were just making sure the guy got to the hospital OK? Maybe doing us all a favor and getting yourself checked out too.”

  
As chidings went, this was a pretty gentle touch from Tony.

  
“His family wasn’t here. I – I didn’t want him to be alone.” He winced at himself a little, at how defensive he sounded even to himself.

  
“It’s all good, Cap. No need to get testy.” Tony pulled up the other visitor’s chair. “I talked to the Doc. She thinks he’s gonna be ok. She also said his family is still trying to get here. You gonna ease up or am I gonna have to get the jaws of life in here for you, Stars and Stripes?”

  
He followed Tony’s nod to the place where he was gently cradling James’ hand in his own. Steve released the man’s hand a little guiltily and then stood up, stiff and in dire need of a shower and a change of clothes. He was still in his uniform from the battle the day before and he felt like he’d been hit by a Mack truck and that all the dirt, grime, and filth of New York City was currently exploring the space between his skin and the suit.

  
“I’m gonna grab a shower and a change… maybe some food and then head back.” Steve glanced at Tony nervously. “Would you keep an eye on him for me?”

  
Tony raised eyebrow but said nothing just flapped a hand at Steve to get him going.

  
Steve stopped at the door.

  
“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything to your precious cargo. He’ll still be here and unconscious when you get back. Seriously, Cap? You smell like walking sewage. I’ll hold down the fort.”

  
And with that Tony turned his attention away from Steve in dismissal, bringing up a schematic in the middle of the hospital room. It looked suspiciously like a prosthetic arm.

* * *

Steve showed up less than an hour later carrying foot longs and sodas, he was showered and dressed in dark denim, a soft off white Henley and a black leather motorcycle jacket.

  
As he entered the room, Tony swiped away the schematic he’d been working on. He plopped into one the chairs and grabbed for the bag Steve swung toward him.

  
“Sustenance! This doesn’t mean I forgive you for leaving me here with nearly dead guy. Did you notice that he needs an arm? Because I might be able to help with that.”

  
Steve smiled into his sandwich. Tony was stupidly generous. He’d give everyone in a twenty mile radius hell for it but in the end he knew that he wouldn’t have to work that hard to get Tony to help him with James, if he needed it.

  
“By the way, I know you were planning on taking care of this.” Tony made a circular motion with his hand at the room in general. “Already taken care of. I don’t argue with centenarians. It’s disrespectful. Look, nearly dead guy is awake.”

  
Steve looked up from his sandwich and that tight feeling that had been coiling in his chest since he got a good look at James Barnes yesterday blew wide into something that had wings and was trying desperately to escape through his rib cage.

  
James’ eyes were a clear gray blue and they were clouded with confusion. He seemed to realize that he didn’t know the people crowding up his room.

  
“Who the hell are you?” he rasped at Steve.

  
“I’m – “, but he didn’t get a chance to finish. Dr. Nakamura came striding in with two nurses in tow.

  
“Sorry, Captain Rogers, Mr. Stark, but I’m going to have to ask you to step outside. We need the room cleared.”

  
Steve nodded and grabbed his food. He turned to look at James but his attention was on Dr. Nakamura and the low murmur of the doctor telling him about his arm and the anguished cry that came up as he processed the unwanted information. Steve’s heart broke (yet again) for James Barnes but he didn’t have any right to be a comfort to him. 

“Come on, Cap. I’ve got a tab to pick up.” Tony prompted gently.

  
Steve followed behind Tony as he sauntered over to the nurse’s station and arranged for all of James Barnes medical expenses to be paid for and to give the nurses his assistant’s contact information if they needed anything.

* * *

Steve ended up not coming back for almost three weeks; between post battle clean up, debriefs, and a previously scheduled Strike field training exercise, he didn’t have an hour to himself let alone one to give to James. The moment the Avengers had some downtime for a change, his first thought after getting cleaned up, indulging in some much needed sleep, and eating a mountain of food, was to go see the man whose life he’d saved.

  
He turned up at the hospital dressed in a pair of navy blue slacks, a soft gray turtleneck and a classic pea coat, holding a bouquet of flowers. As he neared the nurses station the woman there did a double take.

  
“Captain Rogers! I didn’t recognize you in your civvies. You clean up real nice, hon”, she said with a wink.

  
“I’m here to see James Barnes. He’s a trauma patient. Dr. Nakamura’s team brought him in. I should be on the approved visitors list.”

  
The nurse pulled up information on her computer and her sunny disposition waned a bit. She looked up at him with sympathetic eyes.

  
“I’m sorry, hon, but the patient has asked that no one but family and approved friends be allowed to visit.”

  
“Oh…” Steve couldn’t really expect more. James Barnes didn’t know him. Didn’t even know that a hundred year old icon had pulled him from the rubble.

  
“I’m sure if you let them know it was you – “, she began. But Steve gently cut her off.

  
“It’s ok. Can you do me a favor? Will you see he gets these?” Steve handed over the bouquet.

  
“Of course, Captain Rogers, I’d love to.” She took the flowers from his hands and laid them gently on her desk. “I don’t see a card. Did you want to write him a quick note?”

  
“No, just make sure he gets them. Tell him they’re from the staff.” Steve started to head out but he spied Dr. Nakamura coming back to the nurse’s station.

  
“Hello, Captain Rogers. It looks like you heard he’s not seeing anyone but family and close friends?” She nodded along with him, in answer to her own question.

  
“Has anyone told him it was me?” Steve asked. He didn’t care that he sounded desperate.

  
“No, Mr. Stark gave strict instructions that no one was to let him or his family know that any of the Avengers were involved except in a cursory manner.”

  
Tony… Sometimes that man surprised the hell out of him; he was going to do something really nice for Tony one of these days.

  
“Good. Good. I want to make sure… make sure no one tells him it was me. Will you promise me that? Even if Tony says it’s okay later, I don’t want him to know I pulled him out.”

  
Dr. Nakamura gave him an assessing look.

  
“Something I should know, Captain?”

  
Steve looked away for a moment to gather himself together, when he returned her gaze he was able to lie to her with a level expression.

  
“No, Doc, I just don’t want to deal with all the gushing and embarrassment. I was just doing my job.”

  
Dr. Nakamura hummed thoughtfully. “Well, I’ll make sure no one tells him. We’ll stick to Tony’s orders for the duration. Did you want to be kept informed of how he’s doing?”

  
Steve thought about that for a moment, almost a moment too long.

  
“No, I think I’m okay with leaving him in your capable hands.” He reached out to shake with her and she grasped his hand firmly.

  
“If you change your mind…” she offered kindly as he started back down the hall to go back to the Tower.

  
“I’m good, Doc, I promise.” Steve waved and turned his back on James Barnes. He was just another civilian in a long line of civilians. He wasn’t the first and he wouldn’t be the last. But… that bright, free thing that had uncoiled in his chest three weeks ago when James had opened his eyes and asked who he was? It railed in his chest, beating at his heart, begging for him to turn around and go back, to tell James Barnes who he was.

  
Between the elevator and the street, Steve tamped down the feeling that was threatening to overwhelm him and shoved it to the furthest corner of his mind into a box labeled: ignore this.

Instead of thinking about James Barnes he was going to go ask Thor if he could finally try some of that Asgardian mead and see if space booze would work where the run of the mill Earth stuff failed.

* * *

After a while Steve forgot about James Barnes, amputee. At least he only thought about him occasionally, usually when he saw Dr. Nakamura. He sensed, whenever she was around, that if he asked, even though roughly two years had passed since he had saved the man’s life, that she would be able to fill him in on anything he wanted to know without hesitation.

  
So, he didn’t ask.

  
Mostly, he was okay with it. Until someone, usually Peggy, started trying to get him to go out on dates. Then, with the urgency of a train wreck, he’d see James’ face and those muzzy blue-grey eyes opening in question.

  
_(Who the hell are you?)_

  
Today was no exception, Peggy was trying to set him up with the strangely pierced and tattooed young woman in accounting as they were getting breakfast in the common area.

  
“Lillian” he offered in reply to her trying to guess the woman’s name. “Yeah, I’m not ready for that.”

  
He didn’t want to tell Peggy that he really wasn’t interested in women. Not romantically, not sexually. He preferred men: men with dark, wavy hair and cleft chins, men with soft, red lips and wintry blue eyes.

  
Tony wandered into the common room as Steve half listened to Peggy going on about some other women he could possibly date. Tony poured himself a coffee and then interjected himself into the conversation.

  
“Pegs, you do realize that Cap’s a lost cause, right? I think the ice stole his libido. He’s got zero interest in dating. Look at his face; he looks like you just fed him raw sewage.”

  
Peggy was already looking at Steve speculatively. Steve shrugged. Tony was wrong but he didn’t need to know that.

  
“Speaking of raw sewage – remember that guy you rescued from the rubble pile a couple years ago. The one you spent all night pining after in the hospital. He popped up on my radar again; submitted an application for the internship program in robotics. If I’d known he was a whiz kid, I would have been more insistent that he come to the Tower... Does anyone want this last sprinkle donut? No?”

  
“Tony!” Steve groaned, purposely ignoring the information about Barnes, as Tony beat him to the donut box and stuffed half of the last one into his mouth. “What have I told you about taking the last red white and blue sprinkled?”

  
“Something about hellfire and brimstone... .” Tony grinned around a mouthful. “Gotta be faster, Cap. Your reflexes are getting a little arctic, buddy.”

  
Steve groaned again. He saw that today was going to be a “Cap in the ice” jokes day and he wasn’t in the mood for that either. He stood up from his stool at the island, deciding to refill his coffee before he beat a hasty retreat from the common area.

  
“Not so fast, Capsicle!” Tony said. “You think I should give this Barnes kid the internship?”

  
“Why are you asking me, Tony?” Steve gave him a confused look, hoping beyond hope it worked.

  
“Well, you seemed pretty concerned about him at the time…” Tony gave him innocent eyes back.

  
Peggy leaned across the counter.

  
“Who is “the Barnes kid”, Steve?” Peggy asked just as faux casually.

  
“No one. I mean, someone. Obviously… No one important.” Steve stammered. He could feel the heat blooming on his neck and spreading across his face like an uncontrolled wildfire.

Peggy tilted her head and gave him a quizzical look.

“You’re a terrible liar, Rogers.” She turned to Tony, “So who is he?”

  
“Only the guy that Cap stayed overnight in the hospital for while sleeping in a visitor’s chair, in his grungy battle uniform, with his comms off… and holding the guys hand”, Tony mumbled around the remnants of the donut.

  
“Steve likes boys. Why didn’t you say so, Steven? I could have hooked you up with that hot redhead from Strike… Ralph? Rick?”

  
“Rafe. His name is Rafe. And I’m not ready for that either.”

  
Tony sputtered donut crumbs onto the island.

  
“Wait. What? You’re gay?” Tony croaked, incredulous. “How gay? Like semi gay? Because that one chick from R&D says you put out. On the first date.”

  
“Vivian did say she got some, Steve.” Peggy added, unhelpfully.

  
“Vivian got politely asked to keep her hands to herself. I didn’t even kiss her. I only go out with any of them to get you off my back, Peggy”, Steve fumed. “And for your information, Tony: Yes. I’m. Very. Gay. All the gay. Butt out. Both of you.”

  
Steve grabbed his mug and headed for his suite but as he got to the door of the common room he remembered one last thing.

  
“And figure out your own damned interns, Tony!"

* * *

Peggy sashayed around the island, reached into Tony’s jacket and pulled out a hundred dollar bill.

  
“Nice to see you don’t welsh on your bets, Stark.”

  
“How did you know? Not the gay thing. I am impressed you got him to admit it.” Tony fixed her with a serious stare. “How’d you know about Barnes though?”

  
“I’m a spy, darling, it’s my job to find out things I can use to mine or my friends advantage.” Peggy crossed her arms over her chest and leveled Tony with her ‘I brook no argument’ stare.

  
“You’re going to help me get him in the same room with ‘the Barnes kid’, Tony. You’re going to make it look like it’s all your idea. Clear?”

  
“I take it my murder is on the table of I don’t comply? Fine! I hope this blows up in your face, Pegs. You’re too damned smug. You know that?”, Tony huffed as he stalked off.

* * *

Peggy smiled after him. She had every right to be smug. She had first hand Intel. Two years ago she caught Steve Rogers confessing his love for a man he’d just met. A one armed man lying unconscious in a hospital bed. It was credible Intel and she intended to put it to good use. 

 


	3. Bank Robbers and International Spies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck goes to the Tower. Natasha tells him he's still her friend with an arm or without one. Tony accidentally causes an incident. And Steve... well, he tells a big old whopper.

Once upon a time there was a boy who loved science fiction. A love that led him to a discovery of the wonders of math and science. Realizing fairly quickly that he didn’t want to deal in abstract things like theorems and equations (even though they could lead to practical applications), he turned his time and research in the science of designing and building the fantastical machines that he’d read about in books: machines with intelligence, machines with purpose, the kind of things his six year old self built with Legos, the kind of machines inspired by those science heavy fictions he had read in his youth.

The boy went to school and discovered that his love for math and science and making machines translated perfectly into engineering. He worked hard and long to get a degree in his favorite subject. After graduating with a Bachelor of Science in Engineering and then a Masters in Advanced Micro and Nanotechnology Fabrication, he set about putting all that love for math and science and making machines to work by trying to get a job in the greatest _(in his humble opinion)_ city in the world.

That’s how the young man ended up in New York City, making his way to Stark Tower on the day that aliens decided to invade the city. He was mere blocks away when the mayhem broke out and he managed to take shelter in the archway of a building that seemed to be missing most of the action. He stayed hunkered there, smart enough to realize he was nowhere near equipped to deal with battling hordes of invading aliens. Until he saw a woman stumble into the middle of the street, standing there so shell shocked she didn’t even move as one of the flying alien sleds came bearing down on her. He could hear his mom’s voice as he jogged out into the street, leaping over rubble and rebar, over twisted metal and the piles of alien and human bodies that littered the street to get to this other survivor and get her out of the open: _Bucky Barnes you stay put and don’t get yourself killed!_ But he was obviously ignoring that sage advice because what kind of person left a helpless woman alone in the middle of the street in this madness if they could do something about it?

He made it to her without incident, only keeping half a mind on where the sled had gone to. He reached the woman and gently took her by the shoulders and turned back in the direction of his lucky archway..

The going was slow; the woman‘s shell shocked state was not conducive to expedient movement. He lost track of alien movement as he concentrated on getting her back to the relative safety of the lee of the archway. That turned out to be their undoing.

A squadron of the alien ground troops spied them among the wreckage and started shooting. Bucky lost his grip on the woman and she started screaming as he took cover behind a stand of rubble. She was out in the open, exposed, an easy target for the fast approaching aliens and he watched in horror as one of their energy weapons vaporized the poor lady right in front of his eyes. Taking no chances on get obliterated where he crouched, Bucky scrambled over the rubble in front of him taking a jagged path back towards his previous hide out. Shots from the energy weapons were hitting so close to them, he could feel the hot cold combo of their energy signature singeing the hair on his arms and neck. It was only going to be a matter of time before one of them hit him if he didn’t find a clean exit out of the shooting gallery that the street had become.

When the hit came it wasn’t the unknown pain of the energy weapon hitting him. It was the blinding white out pain of something large hitting his outstretched arm, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground like an insect in a glass display.

After that all he saw were flashes.

 

_His own blood pumping out of the ruined stump of his left arm in the staccato rhythm of drumbeats: ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum._

 

_Shots of violent blue energy arcing overhead._

 

_The thought obliterating roar of some unseen creature._

_Rubble cascading down over him and obscuring his view._

_The sere, relentless pain of his destroyed arm._

 

He knew he was going to die but he still called for help. He kept calling until his voice was hoarse, when he knew no one would be able to hear the weak, barely audible whisper that he kept forcing out of his raw, parched throat.

“Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me. Help me.” It was a litany and a prayer.

Three and a half years later and he still doesn’t know who answered that prayer. Only that someone did. Most days he’s grateful to whoever it was. Most days he can appreciate that he is drawing a breath to laugh with Natasha or tease Becca about whatever boy she’s waxing poetic about that week. Most days he’s good with helping a customer find the just right science fiction or fantasy book to help them escape the world. Most days he’s grateful that he didn’t leave a hole in his parent’s life with his untimely death at the hands of alien invaders. Most days he feels blessed that some Good Samaritan kept him and his family from going bankrupt with the hospital and rehabilitation bills.

But some days he wakes up screaming, drenched in sweat, with the still vivid nightmare of being pinned under rubble, dying of thirst, in the worst pain he’s ever experience in his life but instead of some miracle person digging him out and seeing him to safety, it’s the face of one of those aliens appearing over the edge of the rubble, the energy weapon being pushed against his face, and the blue white hot cold of it being discharged leaves him thrashing. Some days he flails in his bed, twisted up in his blankets, shrieking like a wounded animal to get out. Some days, when he gets free, he sits on the edge shaking, trying to get his heart to slow, waiting for the adrenaline to run its course.

Today is one of those days. He knows why. 

Today he’s going to the tower. Two pm, sharp. _(Not dressed like a librarian? Screw that last part, he’ll dress how he wants.)_

He doesn’t want to go to the Tower. He wants to go to the book store and reread Man Plus. He wants to tease Nat about her ferociously strong, jam sweetened, black tea. He wants to have another half hour “talk” with Mr. Nettleman about why Lord of the Rings is not the best fantasy ever written (good, great even, but not _the_ best). He wants to not think about going anywhere near the place that haunts his nightmares.

The Tower is a reminder: of the attack, of losing his arm, of nearly dying, of giving up his useful, intelligent machines.

The thing is, he can’t look at the kind of stuff he was working on when he was heading to Stark Tower for the apprenticeship interview anymore, not without seeing those alien monsters bearing down on him looking for his death. It physically pains him: the wound is deep, embedded in his psyche like rebar in concrete and likely just as destructive to remove.

But… He hadn’t said no. He had an inkling that Tony Stark was a guy you didn’t say no to, that he would charm, cajole, outwit, or steamroll you into compliance. 

His hands hung limply between his knees as he procrastinated on the edge of the bed. He was calm enough to get himself in gear. Bucky always needed at least ten or fifteen minutes to get motivated to start the day but after a dream it was worse.

His phone buzzed. The notification was from Natasha. 

**Redhead of Doom: Bad night, Yasha?**

The instant message floated on his lock screen like an accusation.

 **Ballerina Barnes: Nope.** **Just not caffeinated.**

**Redhead of Doom: Liar.**

**Redhead of Doom:…**

**Redhead of Doom: I will coffee the hell out of you.**

**Ballerina Barnes: Why does that sound threatening?**

**Redhead of Doom: Because you know who you’re talking to, James.**

**Redhead of Doom:…**

**Redhead of Doom: Answer or there will be milk in your coffee.**

He threw up his hands, exasperated and amused in equal measure.

**Ballerina Barnes: Can I make my bed? Can I take a shower? Can. I. Get. Ready. Already!?**

**Redhead of Doom:** **😇**

Bucky huffed a laugh, grateful for Natasha’s friendship and more ready to face the day. He tossed his phone onto the nightstand and finished making his bed. Bucky Barnes, bookseller was no one to fuck with. He had this. He was going to make Tony Stark his bitch. He was also going to wear his sexiest ‘librarian’ outfit out of pure spite. Tony Stark deserved that after railroading him into a meeting at that fucking monstrosity he called a building.

He’d go to the shop, help Tasha open, finish the window display that he’d worked out for a Brent Weeks signing that was coming up the next week, take a late lunch and then subway to Midtown.  

He ends up wearing charcoal gray slacks, a white dress shirt with a green tie that coordinates perfectly with the green, black, and charcoal striped sweater pulled on over it. He finishes off with his Slytherin socks and his best dress shoes, and putting on his black acrylic Warby Parkers, because somewhere between the shower and the closet, going full hipster nerd struck him as incredibly funny. (He’s really a Hufflepuff but imagines that if Hogwarts were real he’d get sorted into Slytherin out of pure, unbridled desire. The Sorting Hat would take that into consideration, wouldn’t it?)

When he takes a look at himself in the mirror before going to the kitchen, he does a double take. He hasn’t made this much effort in a while, not even for his semi-regular bar hangouts with his friends, he just hasn’t cared. He looks _good._ He _feels_ good. And if he’s being honest with himself, he knows that Tony Stark is someone it can’t hurt to try to impress. Bucky tips a hat to himself after he shrugs on his knee length wool coat and wraps a scarf Natasha made for himself around his neck.  A quick, backtrack into the kitchen for a meal prepped breakfast sandwich from the freezer, the coffee that auto brewed into his travel mug, and the messenger bag with his work laptop that he left on the bar stool at the island counter and he’s out the door.

The city has cooled considerably now that it’s late September, enough that the coat doesn’t seem like a mistake as he jogs to the subway entrance. The commute in is relatively peaceful, he manages to crunch his way through the apple he’d slipped into his pocket, sip most of his coffee without it going cold, and reads a chapter of Vicious before exiting the subway near the shop.

Natasha is unlocking the gate as he walks up and he greets her with a smirk.

“Are you trying to get a date with Tony Stark, James Buchanan Barnes? Because,” she said, pausing to wave at his outfit. “You’re pretty dressed up for ‘the equivalent of a doctor’s appointment’.”

“Am I supposed to go looking like a slob?” he groused back. “It’s _Tony fucking Stark._ ”

Natasha smirked at him as she finished unlocking the roll gate. They slipped under and Bucky pulled it back down again while Natasha opened the front door. James headed straight for the office once they were inside and safely locked back in until the opened.

By the time they opened he had completed more of his morning routine than usual, things that he didn’t usually start until after lunches were done and he ended up sitting in the office with a cup of tea and some triple ginger molasses cookies that Darcy had brought in the day before. He had tried to read part of an ARC that he’d been interested in but he couldn’t focus. He was buzzing with a strange energy that he couldn’t quite put a name to. It wasn’t good or bad but an unidentifiable neutral that made him restless.

Natasha comes to lean on his office door, pointedly watching him demolish a cookie while he distractedly taps his foot sideways against the leg of his desk.

 “I will murder you, Yasha, if you keep abusing your poor, innocent desk.”

Bucky looked down and noted his foot still moving of its own accord.

He puts down the cookie and then laid his hand on his leg, waiting until his brain caught up to the fact that he needed to stop fidgeting. Smiling crookedly at his friend, he shrugged and took another sip of his tea so he wouldn’t have to speak.

Natasha’s perpetual knowing smirk slipped slowly from her face.

“You don’t have to go, James. No one will think less of you. Not even _‘Tony fucking Stark’_ ”, she said softly.

“I –“, he started with a croak, unaware how quickly that simple comment had hit his feelings. “I want to? I mean, I want to. I… I just want to see what he’s offering. That can’t hurt, can it?”

“You don’t seem sure. That’s all I’m saying. I want you to be sure. At the end of the day, you don’t owe anyone anything. You’ve got nothing to prove.” She crossed to his desk and put a hand on his shoulder _(that shoulder. She was one of the few people that could)_ and squeezed gently. Bucky swallowed thickly, trying to get his emotions in line.

“I’m _not_ sure, Tashenka”, he said quietly. “But I am going to go. I don’t want to wonder. You know?”

“I know. I had to ask. You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” He stood then and she gave him a quick flash of a hug before disappearing from his office.

He checked his watch; he actually needed to leave ten minutes ago. Gathering up his coat, scarf, and bag only took a moment, Bucky gave himself that time to get himself together. Tony Stark. His Bitch. He could do this. And he was.

“Try not to burn down my baby!” he called over his shoulder as he drew on his coat and scarf and walked towards the shops door.

The ride to the Tower was different than his commute to work this morning. He couldn’t be still. The fidgets he managed to quell while Natasha was talking him down off the ledge had come back with a vengeance. What made matters worse was that he could tell that his nervousness was rubbing off on nearby passengers, which only caused him more stress. By the time he got off at the midtown stop and came up to the street level, he was a walking bundle of utterly fried nerves. His heart was racing and a flop sweat had broken out over his entire body.

It was only a block from Grand Central to the Stark Tower lobby but as he headed down the street towards the building his heart stuttered in his chest; it felt like a large, dark hand had descended from some ancient dimension and was currently trying it’s damnedest to squash Bucky like a bug.

Tucking his head down, he stumbled toward the building but he couldn’t even do that without constantly looking around for the tell-tale sound of chittering aliens and the blue white light of energy weapons. He was too close to the Tower and he knew it. Ahead of him he saw a team of six thick necked, gym-rat bodied men wearing black tactical gear come out of the building. His mind already in turmoil, recoiled at the sight. He felt trapped.

His messenger bag fell to the ground and he scrambled for it and took off running in the other direction. He ran around people and cars, nearly getting clipped by a taxi in his headlong rush to get away from the building. He ran until his lungs were burning and he could taste the metallic copper taste of blood in his mouth.

He slumped down on his haunches, clutching his bag to him as he sobbed in relief. His fellow New Yorker's didn’t blink or halt just went around him, some calling him names for being in the way, calling him a tourist. _As if._

He didn’t need a stupid fucking arm anyway. He got on just fine with the one he had left.

 _Fuck_ Tony Stark.

And fuck his stupid, stupid, monstrosity of a building.

And double fuck his stupid, stupid offer of the one thing Bucky might want more than to never having a nightmare about aliens again.

Bucky ducked his head down and counted out his breaths, willfully slowing them to down to a normal volume of air exchange.

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

What would he tell Natasha? Not that she’d judge. It’s one of the reasons they were friends. They could be honest with each other, even about the hard stuff. The truth was, he was beyond embarrassed. His luck, _Tony fucking Stark_ would somehow know this happened and the offer would be off the table and he didn’t know what he was going to do if that happened and…. _FUCK_!

A shadow fell across his face. Someone was standing right in front of him _(paying attention – who does that in NEW YORK!),_ blocking the mid afternoon light.

“Fuck off.” Bucky said without looking, shoving his head in a direction that clearly said ‘anywhere but here’.

“You okay?” a deep, concerned voice rumbled.

Bucky huffed an exasperated sigh. He looked up, squinting, ready to tell whoever this was to piss off in no uncertain terms but the words died on his tongue.

An angel was standing over him in a three piece navy business suit, even his shirt and tie coordinated. The guy literally looked like an angel, his blond hair back-lit by the afternoon sun, creating a halo effect around his face.

The man hiked up his dress paints a bit, and then squatted in front of Bucky.

“Are you okay?” he repeated. Bucky just stared. “You seem a bit… panicked.”

Bucky managed a wry chuckle.

“You could say that.”

“Want to talk about it?” the man offered. Bucky thought it almost sounded shy.

Looking the stranger in the eye, Bucky put on his New York face.

“Thanks and all but I don’t know you, pal.” He made his gaze as steely as he knew how _(which was pretty fucking steely,_ Natasha _was his friend for fuck’s sake)_ as he climbed to his feet. The stranger stood too after a moment and Bucky really got a good look at him.

Angelic.

Fucking angelic.

 It was the only word to describe this guy. He was just a bit taller than himself, with wheat blond hair, soft pink lips, and eyes that looked like the sea before a storm: steely blue gray with a dark halo around the outside, as if his own eyes were trying to contain the energy they held. He was saved from being too beautiful to stand by having a slightly crooked and hawkish nose.

“I have a bad habit of trying to rescue people”, the man offered with a self-deprecating smile. Bucky _did not_ swoon.

“It’s cool.” He replied stiffly, adjusting his messenger bag back across his body where it belonged. “But you probably shouldn’t do that too much around here, makes you look like a tourist.”

“Says the man blocking a Manhattan sidewalk in the middle of the day”, the stranger quipped back.

“Yeah, well… I can’t be held responsible a well tuned fight or flight response.” Bucky shot back. "Security goons were after me, I swear."  _(WTF, Bucky! Why are you flirting with this hot psycho stranger?!)_

“Running from security goons, huh? So, bank robber, international spy… Should I be worried about aiding and abetting?”

“You’re about to be taken out by a local and you’re worried about the job description?” Bucky raised his eyebrows meaningfully.

“Is that how it is?” The grin that split navy suited angel’s face made Bucky’s insides _melt_.

“Yeah, that’s how it is”, he smirked, despite his best intentions to remain serious.

“Well”, the man said, mock thoughtfully, “Sounds like you don’t need a rescue. But how about I buy you a cup of coffee anyway? It sounds like I could use the street cred.”

Bucky’s body was light years ahead of his brain. What the heck, maybe he’d get a date out of this random encounter.

“Fine, you’ll make good cover for the goon squad but” Bucky said emphatically, “I’ll have a tea. I don’t think I need the extra stimulation right now.”

The stranger laughed.

“No, probably not but if we go to the Starbucks down the street they’ll have plenty of strangely flavored caffeine free drinks for you to choose from.”

Bucky nodded even though he hated Starbucks, at this point he just wanted to hang out in angelic guy’s space and try to get a number or something.

The man turned and joined the flow of traffic and Bucky scrambled to catch up. When he fell into step beside the man, he took another look at him. He looked familiar, like a public figure that he should know but couldn’t quite place.

“You look familiar…”, Bucky started. “Should I know you? Wait! Don’t answer that. You probably get that all the time. ‘You look like just look like insert famous person here’.”

“I get told I look like Captain America quite a lot”, the man replied. Bucky took a longer look.

“Well, whoever is telling you that is not wrong. And”, Bucky drew out the word for effect, “I’ve heard he also has a bad habit of rescuing people. So, you’ve got more than just the face in common.”

The man laughed again. Bucky wanted to keep making him laugh because it was a really good laugh.

“Yes, he does. I don’t know if he knows but It’s a really bad habit. Dirty. Dangerous too. I gave blood, sweat, and tears and nearly got bled out on the sidewalk for my trouble.”

“Yeah, but come on!” Bucky exclaims, skipping over the pertinent parts of his statement and going straight to his recurring fantasy, “You have to admit that Captain America dirty and sweaty would be pretty fucking hot.”

It isn’t until his adrenaline and nerve addled brain takes two more steps down the street that he realizes what he implied with that statement.

“Fuck! That was gross. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve had worse things said… about the resemblance.” The man looked away, embarrassed. Bucky mentally cursed himself for being so fucking _thirsty._

They neared Starbucks and his heroic rescuer held the door for him (a gentleman!) as they went in. They both walked up to the counter together. Bucky ordered a green tea. Angelic Navy Suit Man ordered a black coffee, so no name needed on the cup. After Bucky picked up his drink and wandered over to a table in a quiet corner, where his new best friend was waiting in one of two side by side over stuffed chairs, his coffee held in both hands. He looked adorable and sweet, with his face upturned, a look of gentle expectation on his face. Bucky wished he could curl up in his lap and plant a long, slow kiss on him.

 _Well, where the fuck had that come from?_  Bucky finally decided enough was enough.

“My name is Bucky, by the way.” He held out his hand for the man to shake. “And you are?”

The man turned a faint pink and stretched out his hand to shake Bucky’s in return but he hesitated before offering his name.

“Grant… Grant Stevens.”

“Nice to meet you, Grant. Thanks for the rescue? I mean, I probably could have picked myself up off the street but it’s nice to know that not every New Yorker is a complete asshole.”

“How do you know I’m not an asshole?” Grant said with an amused grin.

“An asshole wouldn’t make sure I was okay, flirt with me to calm me down, and then buy me a drink”, Bucky stated, matter of fact.

“I don’t know who you just described but he sounds like a tourist. You should probably tell him to fuck off. ” Grant said, smirking.

“Fuck off then, tourist!” Bucky said with a dopey smile on his face.

Grant started to get up but Bucky shot his hand out and grabbed his forearm.

“Sit down and give me your number already, you punk.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll give you a number, you jerk.” Grant teased. “But first, I need to make sure that my reputation as a doer of good won’t be tarnished by your nefarious mid-day activities. So, bank robber or international spy? You never did say.”

Bucky laughed. He could grow to really like this guy.

"Would anyone in either of those professions ever tell?"

* * *

 

Bucky floated back to the bookstore with a number in his phone and tentative plans for dinner on Friday night. All he could think about was his future husband, Grant Stevens and how to break it to Natasha that he might have met his new best friend.

When he walked into the store at five o’clock, Natasha was waiting for him with a murderous expression on her face.

“My office now, James.” She hissed as he tried to pass her to go to his own office.

He ignored her and went into his own office. She followed on his heels and slammed the door so hard it rattled in its frame.

“Where have you been? And it better be a really good fucking story because I have spent the past three hours worrying that you were kidnapped or dead. Six private security goons showed up at the store asking where you were. They said Mr Stark had sent them because you never turned up at the Tower. So, when I say the explanation better be epic as fuck, I mean it. Or… I. Will. Literally. Murder. You. Myself.”

Bucky sagged onto the edge of his desk and let his bag fall to the floor.

He’d completely buried the appointment with Stark. How he’d had the panic attack and run out.

“Tashenka – “, he started but she cut him off.

“Don’t Tashenka me, James! Where were you!? Did you even bother to check your phone?” Natasha sounded frantic and it wasn’t like her. He knew he’d really scared her.

“I went to the Tower but… I.. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t go in. All I could think about was that day. I panicked.” He dragged a deep breath through his lungs to steady himself at the memory. “I ran. I just… ran and ran until I couldn’t run anymore. When I finally stopped this guy saw me and he helped me calm down. Took me to a coffee shop, bought me a tea… I got so caught up in forgetting about what happened that I didn’t even think about being missed.“

Natasha stood silent for a moment as if she hadn’t heard him speak but she shook herself and crossed to stand directly in front of him.

“We’ve been friends for a long time, James. So, I’m going to only say this once: if I call, answer.” She held up her hand to stop his automatic protest, “The last time I called you and you didn’t answer, I found out you were attacked by aliens and nearly died under a pile of rubble. Don’t ever leave me hanging like that again as long as you have breath in your body. Clear?”

Bucky nodded mutely, a huge lump in his throat.

“I can’t hear you, Yasha. I need to hear you say the words.’

“I promise that I will pick up as long as I have breath in my body.” It was a promise he intended to keep.

Natasha threw her arms around him and held him in a fierce, bruising hug. When she pulled away both their eyes were wet.

“I am truly sorry, Tasha.”

She waved this off, over it now that she’d said her piece.

“Stark was worried too. It’s why he sent the security. The team lead was a douche-waffle, by the way. Tried to hit on me”, she rolled her eyes in disgust.

Bucky sighed. What a fucking day.

“Guess I blew my shot with Stark”, he said uncertainly.

“I don’t know; he didn’t say.” She opened his office door. “Check your phone, maybe he left you a message… like I did."

Bucky took his phone out of his pocket. There were a total of twenty two missed messages and call notifications from Natasha, his sister Becca, his parents, Stark, and even one from Grant.

“You’re smiling about missed calls, James. That is a mistake you want to remedy _right now_ ”, his friend growled from the doorway.

“It’s just that after this shit show of a day something good came out of it. The guy that helped me? He asked me out. I’ve got a date with Captain America’s twin on Friday night.”

Natasha threw up her hands and walked out without saying a word.

“Don’t you even want to know his name?” Bucky called after her.

“I am ignoring you now so you can see what it feels like”, she called back.

Bucky shrugged and took out his phone to listen to Grant’s message.

* * *

 Steve called Bucky from the elevator up to his floor of the Tower.

“Next guess: private courier. The goons were trying to intercept the package you were delivering to a reclusive billionaire.” He snickered at how idiotic that sounded given what he did for a living and switched topics. “Where should we meet on Friday? Feel free to text me with your thoughts.”

* * *

 

JARVIS pinged Tony while he was fine tuning the physical prototype for James Buchanan Barnes’ new arm.

“What’s up J?”

“I’m sorry to bother you sir but you asked me to inform you if ‘anything interesting’ happened with regard to Mr Barnes.”

“I did. You got something good for me?” Tony asked the AI as he laid the black and gold vibranium arm he'd co-designed with his new team member's sister, Shuri, into the custom built case they'd designed for it.

“Sir, I believe that Captain Roger has acquired Mr Barnes phone number and he’s planning to see him on Friday night.”

“Thanks, J man. Do me a favor and ask Peggy to come up.”

“Yes, sir. Consider it done.”


	4. Quantum Entanglements

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Peggy butt heads. Steve frets over his date with Bucky. Tony invades the bookstore.

“I fail to see the problem”, Peggy said as she lounged across the oversized rattan canopy armchair that occupied a corner of the Avengers common room. “The whole point was to get _them_ together.”

She was knitting a scarf that was surprisingly complex in its patterning; Tony had secretly asked JARVIS to analyze the pattern and he was impressed by how _mathematical_ the design seemed. He was intrigued enough to want to get a closer look but the Widow was holding needles, so probably not a good idea at the moment.

“ _We_ didn’t get them together. Steve was coming back from a meeting and saw his future husband practicing for the four hundred meter.” Tony tossed his Stark Pad onto the common area’s workbench. “It was a complete and utter fluke. I’d have better statistical odds of catching herpes from Dum-E and I don’t swing that way. Human/robot relations aren’t that cordial.”

“Gods! You are so melodramatic sometimes. I do hope you get over yourself and stop making this about you. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were vying for James Barnes.”

She sat up and set the knitting aside, raising an eyebrow at him. “I do know better, don’t I Tony?”

“I don’t swing that way either”, Tony hedged, popping an ever present snack of some sort into his mouth. “But if I did, I wouldn’t mind exploring that area with Mr. Barnes. He kisses like he means it.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. She knew he wasn’t serious but he would go on until he either let it go or interfered in some absurd way and caused more trouble than he was worth.

“I could just pin you to that island with my knitting needles until you get over it.” It wasn’t really a threat. Not really.

“It’s made of marble, Carter. Let me know when that aim goes bionic and we’ll talk.”

Tony turned his back to pour himself another cup of coffee. He refused to admit that he squeaked when not one, but both of the knitting needles imbedded into the wood of the upper cabinets on either side of his head.

“Calm down, murder kitten, I was just joking. Sort of. Mostly!”

Peggy sighed heavily. “We aren’t going to do anything. _We_ are going to stay out of it now. I don’t want to hear about you interfering in any way.”

She rose from the chair, grabbing what was left of the knitting and sauntered over to Tony, removing the needles from the wood with a measured look into his eyes as she did so. 

“Cool your heels, international woman of mystery. I’m just saying that I can see the appeal, ok? Barnes is a damned fine kisser and he looks good. On paper too. I want to get him into the lab and get this arm fitted and then pick his brain to see if he has anything to add. The stuff the kid was working on before we crushed his arm with a building was pretty fucking fantastic…” He trailed off as her look sharpened into something dangerous.

“He lost everything and everyone he ever cared about when he got stuck in that ice. Now he goes out and plants himself in front of every danger he can; I think, unconsciously, to seek his own death. So, when I see him reaching for someone that may tether him to this time and place and allow him to be fully present here, I’m going to protect that with every skill at my disposal.”

She had deftly reinserted the needles into her knitting as she spoke. Tony leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms with a defiant expression dawning on his face.

“Cap is a big boy and Barnes isn’t a plaything. We don’t get to decide who he chooses or not.”

“That almost sounded wise, except the part where you implied that you’re going to get in his way, and by extension, mine. You don’t want to fuck with me, darling. I know ways to make your life hellish that don’t require close proximity”, Peggy drawled in reply. “Besides, getting him to choose who we wanted is what we’ve been doing all along.”

“Maybe we should stop.” 

Peggy moved towards the door without a reply. 

“You win all the time, Stark. Your world is almost exclusively made of the stuff. Let Steve have his moment for once, because you’re right: James Barnes isn’t a toy for one of you to win”, she said tipping her hand at the glowing triangle of the arc reactor. “Prove there’s actually a heart buried in there somewhere and let Steve have his chance."

Tony didn't respond, just watched her saunter off over the lip of his mug as he knocked back some of the coffee he'd just poured. 

"JARVIS?" 

_"Sir?"_

"Have Happy pull the car around."

_"Shall I give him your destination, sir?"_

"No, I'll let him know once I'm in the car. And J, tell him to give me twenty; I'm gonna change."

'Mr Hogan has been informed and will await you in the private garage, sir."

Tony took the mug with him and went to change into a suit. He's was still wearing his Aggretsuko t-shirt though. 

Twenty minutes later he was wearing a navy suit and rainbow ‘I love death metal’ Aggretsuko t-shirt with matching custom rainbow Adidas. He put on his Stark aviators and took the express elevator to the garage. He strolled down to the waiting car with a large metal case in hand; Happy was waiting for him as promised. 

"What's the mystery destination, Tony?" 

*A bookstore in Chelsea called War of the Words. But I need to pick up some sushi first."

* * *

Tony waltzed into Bucky’s office unannounced. He came bearing two very fancy looking trays full of sushi and a chilled bottle of sake with two cups that matched the trays. Tony plopped one of the trays in front of Bucky, then poured each of them sake before plopping down in the armchair across from Bucky’s desk and crossing his rainbow sneakered feet on the desk. Bucky was nonplussed. Again. 

“I’m having a little trouble here, Barnes”, Tony said as he stuffed a salmon roll into his mouth, he continued as he chewed noisily, “I keep trying to give you an arm and you keep running away from me like I have the plague. I’m starting to take it real personal.”

Bucky sputtered a totally incoherent reply, waving at the sushi, sake, and sneakers on his desk in complete bewilderment.

“You can’t just keep barging into my life, Tony _fucking_ Stark!” he finally hissed out.

“I can’t”, Tony said, popping yet another roll into his mouth, “but Cap can? Hardly seems fair. He’s not even offering you state of the art technology that will help you to talk and text at the same time. I should get extra consideration for that.”

“Cap? Are you talking about Captain America?” Bucky asked, incredulous that his fantasy national icon was making an appearance in this already bizarre conversation. “I’ve never met Captain America! If I had, I’d know.”

Tony sat up abruptly, neatly catching the disrupted sushi tray he’d had on his stomach.

“Come on, Buckaroo. Who do you think rescued you yesterday.” Tony sigh dramatically. “Don’t tell me he used the Grant Stevens thing again? That never works….”

Bucky sat back in his chair and gently lost his mind for a moment. He thought back to the face and ‘Grant’ did look a lot, no _exactly_ like one Steven Grant Rogers. Why wouldn’t he give Bucky his real name? Was the date a joke? Was that why? He couldn’t quite make himself admit that he was worthy of Captain America’s attention. So it had to be pity… and he did say that he had a bad habit of rescuing people.

When he came back to himself, Tony was sitting back in the chair munching on the sushi again and sipping sake between bites with a speculative look on his face. He turned and followed Natasha’s progress past his chair as she also entered the office. She came and perched on the side of the desk closest to Stark’s feet. As she crossed her arms, Tony thought she somehow looked more intimidating in a white silk top, black pencil skirt and high heeled boots than any of the Avengers ever had all geared up in costumes and loaded with weapons.

“Do you come as a matched set? ” Tony asked as he ogled Natasha. “Because I could be into that.”

When his eyes finally swam up to her face, she pushed his sneakered feet off the desk hard without breaking eye contact. He still didn’t drop the sushi.

“That answer enough for you?” She purred in response.

“Tashenka…” Bucky murmured in warning, against what he didn’t know. Both of them seemed dangerous right now. Bucky was still stuck on the fact that Steven Grant Rogers had apparently saved him from himself and lied about it. He decided to sit back and let the two titans in the room have their little tête-à-tête.

“What? They wouldn’t be able to find the body.” Natasha grabbed a piece of Bucky’s sushi and put it into her mouth and undermined her previous statement by moaning out loud at how good it was. “Where did you get this sushi from?” 

“Nope. I don’t respond to threats. So, Buckaroo. You want the arm or not?” Tony continued to eat sushi and sip his sake like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

Bucky kept his eyes on his friend. He’d known Tasha to take out some very large men with the effort it would take most people to step on an ant. He liked her odds but it was Tony _fucking_ Stark. One of his Iron Man suits couldn’t be far away. This was getting too close to Avengers and to that day. He was going to lose his shit soon if he didn’t figure out what the fuck was going on.

Natasha narrowed her eyes at Tony, watching him eat as the silence gathered in the room. Tony was jiggling his leg, nervously and his bites were a little too deliberate… _(Oh!)_ And just like that she was laughing, her head thrown back in complete and total mirth.

“Tasha, please!” Bucky plead putting his head in his hands. “This is really starting to stress me out!”

Natasha broke off and slid off the desk to stand behind his chair and massage his shoulders lightly.

“It’s okay, James. He really wants to do this. He cares a lot about your answer and I think you might actually break him if you say no.” She turned her gaze to Tony. “This half of Team Bucky is on board, Stark. But James has to decide for himself. I’d never try to take that away from him. If you don’t try to take it away from him either _and_ you promise me you won’t do this shit at the Tower, I’ll make the case that this is a good idea.”

Tony sat forward, hope sparkling in his brown eyes.

“I have another lab at the facility upstate. If you want, you can even bring your one woman Russian death squad with you.” Tony offered. 

James shook his head, his eyes landing on the tray of sushi in front of him, the single piece missing because of Natasha; he missed Tony’s shoulders slump at the wordless answer. It took him a moment to find his voice but when he did, the words came in a rush.

“I’m still trying to figure out why any of this is happening. You ambush me in a bar and offer me the moon in exchange for a kiss. Worse you actually intended to keep that promise. Even remembering who I am when by all rights, a night like that, I should have been erased from your memory as soon as you turned your back on me. But no, instead you strong arm me into a meeting at the one place in this city it might be impossible for me to go and then you sic Captain America on me and have him lie about his identity. And for what?” He raised his head and looked Tony in the eye. “Am I a game to you? Is that why you barged into my office? Did you think that sushi and sake would make me less upset about all of this?”

By the time he’s done, Bucky is standing and he’s yelling. Natasha quickly crossed to the door and closed it with a soft snick of the latch. When she turned back her face was stricken, as if his words had been directed at her but he didn’t soften, not in front of Tony Stark.

Tony’s mouth worked for a moment but no sound came out. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t with his usual sarcastic bravado.

“You’re the second person to say that to me today.” Tony pushed his glasses onto his head, then scrubbed a hand over his face. When he looked up at Bucky his face was open and… hurt. "I don't think you're a game, James Buchanan Barnes. I think you're a genius and somebody I'd like to know. I think you're a guy I would have liked to have had on my team, only me and the team I already had helped some aliens drop a building on you, so I fucked that up. Now, I'm just trying to get you into my lab so I can poke you a little bit and see if you'll do science with me."

"And Steve Rogers", Bucky pushed, "was that you going over the top too?"

"No, he did that all on his own." Tony insisted, "Don't know what he was thinking. Maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. forgot to check for brain damage when they thawed him out."

Natasha snorted from the door. Bucky rolled his eyes at her. He was beginning to calm down now. 

"OK…", he began. 

"Do you want to see it?", Tony tapped his ear, "Hey, JARVIS? Can you tell Happy to bring the case in Bucky's office? B, you're going to love it. It's pretty cool looking too. Your going to look like a cyborg. 

“Tony!” Bucky barked, “You’re doing it again-"

At that moment the door jostled Natasha as Happy squeezed into the room carrying a case. 

“Here you go boss! Oh, hi. I didn’t see you there”, he said to Natasha as an apology. She waved him off. 

Happy trundled the case over to the desk and put it up on top of Bucky’s pile of paperwork. Bucky sighed. At least he hadn’t crushed the tray of sushi or knocked over the sake (he was sure Tony had it somewhere on or under his chair). Throwing up his hand in defeat he picked up the sushi tray and stuffed a mackerel roll into his mouth. 

“Damn, this is good! Where did you say you got this again?” he asked, washing it down with the sake which was also utterly fucking _delightful_. 

“I didn’t.” Tony snarked, unlocking the case with a complicated code and his fingerprints.

Bucky couldn’t help the low whistle that came out of his mouth when the case opened. He reached for the arm without thinking but stopped just shy of touching it, looking up at Tony with a hesitant expression. 

“It’s okay, kid, you can touch my goods.” Tony quipped with an eyebrow waggle. 

“Tony…” Happy groaned. Natasha just smacked him upside the back of his head. 

“What?”, he exclaimed, “It’s me.”

Bucky ignored them after that as they bantered amongst themselves, the world tuned out. The arm was room temp when he touched the surface, and it didn’t feel like metal at all. The texture was almost like a matte glazed ceramic on the black parts, the gold parts were warm and and Bucky kept absentmindedly stroking along its length.

Natasha nudged Tony when she noticed.

“I think he likes it.” 

Tony smiled. “So kid?”

Bucky looked up and the smile on his face was small but radiant. 

“How does it work? The material is like nothing I’ve ever seen before. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was vibranium or a solid form of adamantium, if that’s even possible?” he asked. When Tony raised an eyebrow and smirked, Natasha grunted in frustration. 

“I came up with a basic design in the alloy I use for the suits but I went to Wakanda to visit King T’Challa and his sister, a science prodigy that I’d dearly love to have working for me, got wind of it and helped me to redesign it using vibranium instead. 

“What does that mean _exactly_ ”, Natasha added, ever mindful of the details. “Bucky, you really should hear the specifics of what all this will entail.”

“She’s not wrong” Tony said, whipping out the sake bottle and filling Bucky’s now empty cup. “There might be some medical procedures involved. You’re not going to be able to take this on and off. 

“Yeah.” he said wonderingly, “Yeah, I’ll do it.” 

* * *

**Bucky: I'm sorry, I can't make it on Friday. Something important has come up.**

**Liar Liar Pants on Fire: We could reschedule…?**

**Bucky: This is sort of an ongoing commitment. I'm not sure when I'd be free to hang out.**

**Liar Liar Pants on Fire: Call me? If you get some free time.**

* * *

Bucky is running across the uneven ground that has been torn up by weapons fire and trying to dodge the bodies and debris as he scrambles for what he thinks might be safety. 

But it hits him like it does every time and he's pinned, helpless. He can feel the rubble as it cascades over him and the subtle shift as the alien being crawls up the mound to round on him, to shoot him point blank in the face. 

He tenses, waiting for the inevitable, even as a part of his mind screams that this is just a bad dream. He wants to close his eyes but he can't look away. 

And there it is. The alien figure coming over the edge of the mind of debris. 

Except there is a golden glow around the face that has never been there. Horror turns to shock as he realizes that Captain America is coming over the edge and Bucky watches in disbelief as Steven Grant Rogers quickly but carefully removes the debris that has been crushing him.

Once he clears Bucky out of the worst of it, Steve kneels beside him taking his hand, his touch a lifeline amid the chaos and destruction. His eyes are pleading, broken, as if Bucky's life mattered to him more than just rescuing a civilian in need.

"You can't leave me, I just found you", he says. But Bucky can't answer. 

* * *

 

At the kitchen counter, coffee in hand, Bucky goes over what he can remember of the dream. It's never played out like that before. He always gets shot in the face by an alien predator at point blank range. But last night he dreamt that Steve held his hand and kept him anchored to life with sheer force of will. He can't shake the odd feeling the dream has given him. But he also can't separate it from the feelings he has been struggling with since unceremoniously canceling their date via text. There was just too much to sort where _Steve_ was concerned: anger about the lie, guilt for not telling him why he was canceling, and a deep sense of deja vu about the dream. 

He sipped thoughtfully, his brow creased in irritation. He had to shake this off. He was meeting Stark today and he didn't want to be late.

He packed up a Thai Chicken Wrap with sliced Fiji apples on the side, a handful of mixed nuts and cheese cubes for snacking and turned his crock pot to low so that his pork tenderloin would be ready to shred and eat when he got home. 

He had decided on skinny jeans, a black turtleneck and his wool coat, so that he was appropriately casual for his meeting with Stark but not too dressed down for the store. It was October now so he threw on a charcoal gray scarf with matching beanie and fingerless gloves (another gift from Natasha) before heading out to pick up his car. 

He normally took the subway or a cab in the city but he had to drive upstate to Tony's 'other' lab and he didn't want to bother with the train and rentals. 

He kept his pick up garaged most of the time a few blocks away. The parking space was tantamount to paying rent twice but worth having for the times he wanted or needed to use a car. He walked over to the garage and checked in with the attendant. After he got himself settled in the car, he pulled out two breakfast muffins of eggs, cheese, spinach and diced ham and popped on a playlist that he was his go to for hours of favorites.

The ride is uneventful but beautiful; the leaves still showing their color, illuminating his morning drive with fall splendor. His playlist, appropriately called, Fall Into Moods, is a mix of upbeat and somber downtempo tracks that he threw together for days like this. There's more of his beloved Hics, Mansionair, Lapsley, Movement, Vera Blue and some Sam Wills (even though Sam Wills feels more like summer music, he just _likes_ the guy), humming along as the songs pop up in random order on shuffle play. 

The facility is huge and there is a hustle and bustle about the place that Bucky didn’t anticipate. When he pulls up, the guard tells him that he’s expected and so he drives straight through. It seems like lax security from his perspective but knowing that Tony is one of the world’s foremost tech geniuses means he’s probably missed exactly what went down as he passed through the gate. Tony fucking Stark probably has samples of his DNA now, just from rolling through the gate. 

He followed the drive to a glass fronted building that is the largest on the campus. There are no parking spaces but other cars are parked at random across the stone drive so he pulled out of the way of through traffic and parked, taking his messenger bag and coffee cup from the front seat. He entered the building through a door that opened as he approached and he was greeted by a bodiless voice with a British accent.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Barnes. Mr. Stark is waiting for you in the Prosthesis Lab. An escort will be with you in a moment.”

Bucky decided it would be best not to question it. Of course Stark had a butler. It was creepy that he had one at an “upstate facility” that happened to have a Prosthesis Lab but whatever, right? Boy genius at work or something. 

While he stood in the lobby waiting for his escort a woman with dark hair and bright red lips sauntered over in a leather catsuit with her hands on her hips. She stopped outside of touching distance. Bucky instantly had the same thought he'd’ had when he first met Natasha (and sometimes still did, if he was being honest with himself). He was in the presence of someone that was extremely dangerous, showing him blatantly and she wasn’t going to do anything to put him at ease. He decided to show his belly; it had worked with Natasha, so maybe it would work here too.

“Are you my escort up to the lab? Tony’s butler said he was sending someone.”

“No, I’m not here to escort you to any of the labs. I’m here to give you a shovel talk.”

Bucky’s brow creased in confusion.

“Uh… I’m not here to… date Tony Stark. He’s giving me a prosthetic arm. Besides, he’s dating the power blond with the perfect suits, isn’t he? She scares me almost as much as you and Natasha so I’ll pass, thanks.”

“I’m not talking about Stark. I’m talking about Steve. The other power blond. The one you have a date with tonight.”

Bucky bristled; a sneer curled his lip as he responded.

“I don’t date liars. So you can save the shovel talk for someone that’s actually dating the lying power blond.”

He turned his back on her, suppressing his fight or flight response, and strode in the opposite direction even though he had no idea where he was going. He didn’t see the look of surprise that flitted over the Black Widow’s face as he walked away. 

Luckily, Dr. Nakamura was already walking towards him to take him to the lab.

“Hi, Mr. Barnes!” she called in greeting.

“Dr. Nakamura! It’s good to see you. I didn’t know you’d be here. Are you taking me up to the lab to meet Tony?”

“I am.” She looked over his shoulder. “Oh, I didn't realize they’d sent Peggy Carter down to meet you.”

He followed her gaze; the woman was still standing there with her arms crossed over her chest. He turned back to the doctor.

“She wasn’t. She was too busy not minding her own business.” He mentally shook off the Carter woman’s interest in his love life (or lack of it) and gestured generally in a direction away from the lobby. “Lead the way, Dr. Nakamura. I’m anxious to see what Tony has in mind for arming me.”

Dr. Nakamura led him to a bank of elevators as they entered the bodiless voice spoke again. 

“Are you taking Mr. Barnes directly to the lab, Dr. Nakamura? Mr. Stark is anxious to begin and Ms. Potts has requested he back in the city for dinner this evening.” 

“Yes, JARVIS. I’ll take him directly. I can do the physical work up from the Prosthesis Lab.”

“Very good, doctor. I will inform him that you and Mr. Barnes will arrive shortly.”

“Who is that? And why is he monitoring the whole building. I mean, if he’s a personal assistant he could have just met me himself… Or is he to important for the likes of me?” Bucky grumbled to Dr. Nakamura.

She laughed in response. It took her a moment to get ahold of herself by which time the elevator had come to a stop on their designated floor. They both stepped out.

“JARVIS, please introduce yourself to Mr. Barnes.”

“Certainly, doctor. Mr. Barnes, I am JARVIS, an artificial intelligence designed by Mr. Stark to act as a personal assistant and security.”

“Oh….” Bucky breathed. 

Dr. Nakamura ushered him into the lab. She strode towards a workbench that was surrounded by holographic monitors, at the center of which Tony Stark was standing arguing with a young black woman with beautiful braids, wearing a striking white dress and pristine sneakers. 

“Mr. Stark? Mr. Barnes is here.” Dr. Nakamura said as they approached the table. 

Tony looked over first but before he could say anything the young woman came around the table and extended her hand to Bucky to shake. He returned the gesture, raising an eyebrow at her. 

“Don’t let him do it. I’m better at this than he is.” She smirked in Tony’s direction; he just rolled his eyes. “I’m Shuri, by the way, and before you ask: No, you don’t have to call me ‘your highness’.”

“Oh, did I forget she’s the Wakandan Princess?” Tony shrugged.

“She looks like she’s sixteen, Tony”, Bucky hedged.

“I’m nineteen”, she said, “And I’m still better than he is. He’d still be messing around with carbon steel alloys if I hadn’t stepped in and offered some guidance.”

Bucky laughed. This wasn’t going to be as bad as he thought it would be after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long but life happened. And... if I'm begin honest, it was like pulling teeth getting it out at points. I hope you enjoy it anyway. If anyone is interested in any of the songs Bucky played in the car let me know - there is some stellar music to be had there, I promise. As always, if you'd like to beta or have questions, let me know!


	5. You Don't Know My Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve scavenges unsuccessfully, has a crisis, gets a clue, and then shoots himself in the foot when his stupid brain stutters in the crunch. Tony gets dressed down, twice. He deserves it both times... sort of.

The neon lights of the club illuminated Steve’s face as he waited for Peggy and Tony to show up at the bar they had texted to him was their next stop on the scavenger hunt. It took him 20 minutes too speed through the streets on his off duty bike towards a place in lower Manhattan. Now he sat perched atop the bike in his ‘I am in stealth mode’ outfit of black jeans, a black button down, a classic asymmetric motorcycle jacket and a pair of soft black Frye boots. He'd also let the longer than a five o'clock shadow, shorter than a beard facial hair he sometimes sported for undercover missions to grow in as well. If he was going to be running all over the city trying to find things like spelling out YMCA with people they didn’t know or a photo of a clown on a Vespa, he was going to go stealthy. Later, if anyone asked if it was really him in the photos, he’d have plausible deniability; no one would believe that clean cut Captain America was capable of looking like a bad boy. 

Steve received quite a few appreciative looks from both men and women passing by and a tall blonde, with an all-American look about her, had introduced herself as Sharon and tried to get his phone number. He declined politely but was pleased to know that he was looking good enough to be approached and not be recognized as Captain America. 

Tony pulled up in a blacked out sedan, hopping out of the back before Happy could run around and open the door for him, Peggy sliding out right behind him. Tony was wearing a suit with some hard rock band tee, as usual. Peggy was wearing a blood-red, high necked sheath dress that clung to every curve and fell just past her knees, with open toe nude stilettos pumps and no bag to speak of but Steve knew she had at least four knives on her. They both looked good and so did he. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that heads would turn as the three of them entered the bar. 

He wasn't wrong, heads turned, a lot of them tracking the fact that Tony was in a downtown bar with a gorgeous woman at his side. Never mind that they'd never realize that he and Peggy weren't together in that way. It was Tony Stark; everyone would assume a gorgeous woman, dressed to the nines was his date. If they even gave Steve a thought as part of their group, people would probably assume he was hired muscle in street wear. Not that that was an incorrect assumption, necessarily. People just had a tendency to discount that Tony could defend himself without the suit. They were wrong. He couldn't take Peggy or Steve down but he could spar with them and often did,especially once he figured out knowing how to fight without the suit enhanced his use of it. 

The atmosphere was buoyant and lively. A lot of the patrons seemed to know each other; the place had a real community vibe to it that he liked. It almost felt like being across the river in Brooklyn…

“Why are we here, Tony?” he finally asked. “Not that I mind hitting a bar or anything but I’m pretty sure they don’t serve Asgardian Mead here. And if you didn’t come here to get drinks…”

“We’re gonna mark ‘kiss a beautiful stranger’ off our team’s list”, Tony supplied as he eyed the crowd. 

Peggy, practical as always had commandeered a table, scaring the life out of a couple of millenials who all but fled the scene after she leaned over the table and asked if they’d mind if she sat down.

“Don’t worry, Steve, we won’t make you kiss anyone and ruin your reputation as the boy to bring home to mama”, Tony said as he took a seat at what was now their table.

“Am I going to need a keg of Asgardian Mead when this is over?” Steve said with a sigh.

“Maybe, big guy, but can you keep an eye out for someone hot while you mope?” Tony sniped back.

So, Steve cased the place for someone for one of them to kiss. He happened to see a guy that looked pretty good from the back and side heading towards the bar to order a round for a large group of fifteen or so people. They were boisterous and happy, seemed to be celebrating some event. He tapped Tony’s arm.

“He looks like he might be amazingly hot” he said, nodding in the direction of the guy in question. He fully expected there'd be a discussion about who was going to approach him, everyone likely assuming that Peggy would take the lead but no...

Tony launched himself in the direction of the bar without a backward glance. Typical Tony. He shrugged to himself; it was out of his hands now and any chance he had of making out with the guy himself (which be honest, were probably slim, this wasn’t a gay bar). He couldn’t tell much about what the guy might look like (he’d only been able to get a good look at him from the back and from the side) except he had great hair (thick, dark, wavy on top, tapered and trimmed on the sides and the back) and a nice ass (small, pert, perfect for holding, for pulling him up into a deep kiss). He seemed to have something wrong with his left side but Steve wasn’t sure what, from this angle and with all the other people at the bar obscuring his view. 

Steve watched as Tony put his hand on the man’s left side, how he tensed up like it was a sensitive place to be touched. He flinched a little, seemed to be about to light into Tony but lost whatever his response had been as he recognized who he was talking to. Their exchange went on for a moment before the guy turned away amused and dismissive. A few seconds later he turned back, much less amused as Tony kept running his diarrhea mouth anyway. But Tony was waving him off, backing away chagrined. Suddenly, the man turned fully around and Steve rocked back in his chair. 

He felt like he’d been struck by Mjolnir and he knew exactly what that felt like. Tony was talking to _James Barnes_. The James Barnes that Steve had rescued. The James Barnes whose hand Steve had held while he was unconscious in the hospital. The James Barnes that Steve had told every hope, fear, and desire to as he slept, oblivious to the outpouring of heartache and hope that Steve held like a shield. The James Barnes that did not want to see him after he woke up. Now the tension and the way he protected his left side made sense… But then, worse than the ache that suddenly bloomed in his chest at seeing a man he barely knew but was deeply invested in in such an unexpected place and with Tony of all people, was the fucking nonsensical sight that unfolded in the next moment. 

James was reaching out and hauling Tony forward, wrapping him up in an embrace for a searing kiss. It was filthy and hot, an “I’m going to take you home and fuck you into next week" kiss. It was a kiss so full of heat and promise that it stole Steve’s breath away with the longing that swept through his body like brush fire. He wanted… He wanted be Tony Stark for the first time since he'd met the man. Just for a moment. He wanted to be there in James’ arms, being held and kissed to within an inch of his life. He wanted it so badly that for a moment nothing else registered in his brain but his absolute certainty that being in James Barnes’ arms was the best place on earth. It shouldn’t be Tony _fucking_ Stark. 

The bar noise utterly tuned out for a moment as Steve grappled with emotions that warred in his chest until he hit upon a cold hard truth.  He’d walked away from the potential of this three years ago without even introducing himself; he had no right to want to be in Tony’s place. He had no right to be upset that James was kissing someone else and he definitely couldn’t claim the right to be jealous. James wasn’t his.

The bar was alight with applause and camaraderie as he came back to himself; people were congratulating the two men for putting on such an entertaining show. Tony announced that drinks were on him and mayhem ensued. 

“Well”, Peggy said clearing her throat dramatically, “ _that_ was unexpected.”

“Unexpected is not exactly the word I would use”, Steve gritted back. “If I didn’t know better I’d think he planned it.”

“How do you know he didn’t?” Peggy said with an arched eyebrow.

“He’s not crafty enough for that. For all his intelligence, Tony Stark is even more of a blunt force instrument than I am… and that’s saying a lot.”

Peggy hummed a noncommittal response but Steve ignored her so he could finish watching the spectacle of Tony reveling in his antics with James. Steve didn’t know why he stayed except he couldn’t walk away with James in the same room even if he tried.

Tony finally came back to the table twirling a drinks umbrella and humming the song that was playing on the overhead, something about dreaming about sex all day.  Steve smiled at him tightly; it didn’t reach his eyes. Tony eyes were afire with a challenge that just made Steve’s blood boil even more. Tony plopped the umbrella into Steve’s drink.

“This is so you can tell the virgins from all the real boys.”

“I need… some air.” Steve gritted out. He stood so abruptly that his beer sloshed over the table and onto to Tony’s expensive shoes. He headed out without looking back.

Tony just tapped his comm, “Happy, can you bring in the red kicks? Steve got sloppy and spilled his drink.”

“I’ll come with you.” Peggy called after Steve, knowing he’d hear her even over the din. She stood and leaned over to Tony, lowering her voice. “Don’t you think you’re laying it on a bit thick, Stark? We’re trying to get them together, not stroke your over inflated ego.”

She turned on her heel without waiting for an answer, weaving gracefully through the crowd to quickly catch up with Steve.

“Cap’s better when he’s got something to fight. Right now it’s me.” Tony muttered to her retreating back. 

When Steve hit the pavement outside the club, Happy was there waiting with a pair of red sneakers for Tony. 

“I gotta run these in, Cap. Boss said Peggy might want to head back to the Tower though. I can take you too, when I get back.”

“It’s okay, Happy, I've got my bike.” Steve said as gently as he was able, before setting off down the street towards the bike and freedom. Peggy would catch up.

“Are you sure you're okay, Cap? I can take you up to the Tower and get your bike brought back for you”, Happy called after him.

Peggy gently but firmly pushed Happy towards the bar, “Go take care of your errant boss. It’s not like anyone is going to mug Captain America.”

She watched until Tony’s friend entered the bar and then turned and jogged to catch up to Steve. 

“You want to talk about it?” she said mildly. 

Steve sighed. 

“No.”

Peggy knew when to push Steve and when pushing would make him start acting like a 90 pound weakling that wouldn’t stay down in a back alley fight, so she shut up and took the spare helmet he handed her before mounting the bike and speeding across the city to the Tower. 

She was going to have words with Stark and he wasn’t going to like them.

* * *

 

“I’m not yelling, Tony!” Pepper Potts exclaimed as she strode to exit the lab after a heated argument about a certain viral video posted not only to Tony’s personal account but also to the account of the guy he’d kissed. 

“You kind of are, Pep. It was a one time thing. For charity.” Tony popped some more freeze dried blueberries in his mouth. “Besides, I invited him up here to give him an arm. Not to have my children.”

“Tony, I swear to God, if you pull something like this again, I’m going to ban you from R&D for a month.”

“Can you actually do that though?” Tony was skeptical. 

“Well, someone was stupid enough to hand over his company to me – so, yes, I can. And I will, Tony. You’ve got to stop with the ‘forgiveness is better than permission’ BS!” Pepper smoothed her skirt down as she visibly calmed herself to step out of Tony’s lab. “I’ve got a meeting. Dinner is at 8. Sharp. Don’t be late or there will be consequences. And don’t forget your two pm tomorrow afternoon with the Wakandans. Peggy says they are very punctual and I don't want you causing an international incident with another one of your laissez-faire entrances!”

She stalked off before he could answer. It was for the best. 

“JARVIS?” 

“Sir?”

“Arrange for all this to arrive in Wakanda about an hour before I do? Give Dr. Nakamura and her team a heads up  that we’re wheels up . Tell them not to touch anything if they get there early. Definitely make sure that teen menace doesn’t touch it before I do.”

“Will that be all, sir?”

“A peach Jamba Juice sounds tasty. Get one for me? I’m thirsty.”

“Of course, sir.”

“What would I do without you, Jarvis?” Tony said absently as his brain switched gears and gathered up the Venti Iced Americano that had been sweating on his desk so he could dump it in the trash. 

“Grow up and become self reliant, sir?” 

“Rude.” Tony gasped back in mock offense. “I’ve got other AI where you came from.”

“An idle threat, sir; we both know I’m your favorite.”

Tony grunted and headed for the elevator. He was going to take a shower and change. The Wakandan princess was waiting after all and he didn't want to meet her smelling like day old coffee and sixteen hours in the lab. Plus, her preliminary notes had been fascinating and his brain was spinning off in new directions for the prosthesis. The quicker he was presentable, the quicker he could be getting this project wrapped up. 

* * *

 

Steve avoided Tony except when they had to be on missions for a few months after the bar incident. It gave him time to put the whole episode into perspective, to get his head wrapped around the idea that he needed to get over James Barnes and whatever silly ideas he’d had about him from the beginning. 

He took two weeks in early September and rented a cabin in upstate New York to draw and just unwind. He took his sketchbook and paint with him. It turned out to be a really therapeutic time for him. He slept in, hiked, drew or painted as the mood struck, cooked, and even sang at the top of his lungs with all the windows and doors open as he did some light house cleaning. 

He drew James from his freakishly photographic memory, as often as the urge came up… which was a lot more often than was probably healthy. He drew him exactly as he’d seen him: amongst the rubble, in his hospital bed, kissing Tony. Then he drew him as he wanted to see him: across a dinner table, in the gym after sparring, leaning in close to be kissed, asleep on Steve’s sofa, blissed out in Steve’s bed. He drew and drew and finally painted a portrait of him, just a small one no bigger than a snapshot, on thick, heavyweight watercolor card. As he finished them, they were ripped out of his notebooks and laid gently in a basket near the couch. 

On the last day, after a morning of singing along to a random playlist of old favorites from the 30’s and 40’s and a mix of all the stuff he liked that he’d been told he should listen to catch up on what he missed, he started a fire and burned every last drawing in the basket. 

The painting went last.

By the time the painting went, Steve’s face was wet with tears. It was totally irrational. He was obsessed with someone he didn’t know and it scared him that he felt this much emotion. Still he let it out. 

When the fire was dying, he cleaned up the hearth and then his face. He felt calm and clean. Like he’d burned out something horrible and wrong and he knew if he had taken the time to examine all this, that he had been wrong. James Barnes was attractive to him and he had built up a fantasy around him that had no basis in reality. He had let his fantasy die, once and for all and now he was going back to the real world where James Barnes was just a man he’d saved, like any other civilian. 

Packing up was easy; he was generally a neat, tidy person. He did some last minute tidying up around the cabin too; he wanted to leave it as clean as he’d found it. With one last look around to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind, he picked up his bags and with a sigh of finality, closed and locked the cabin. 

* * *

 

Peggy started sending him dating profiles of guys she thought he might like. At first he blew up and scolded her for interfering. He was tired of everyone making commentary about his love life (or lack of it). Peggy had given him a look then. He knew he’d hurt her feelings with his outburst. The reality was that she was probably doing it because deep down she wanted him to be happy but it still stung. He wasn’t hopeless, was he? After some solid introspection he soon realized that there was no reason to hold out really. And going on a few dates would mollify Peggy and patch up the minor breach he’d caused with his tirade. Besides, who was to say that he wouldn't meet someone he liked? Stranger things and all that. 

The first guy was the ginger she'd mentioned when he first came out to her and Tony at the tower. He was beautiful and surprisingly sweet tempered for a Strike guy but he wasn't interested in a relationship just dates and hookups. Steve wanted more, so Rafe was out.

The next guy was Luke from accounting. _(What was it with the L names from accounting?)_ Luke turned out to be prudish and boring. They only had one date, both of them agreeing that they weren't a good fit for each other. 

Next was some other guy from Strike. Steve honestly couldn't remember his name because they didn't really talk but the sex was amazing. They were at it for four days straight, like honeymooners that had waited until the wedding or something. On day five they were interrupted by a mission call and the guy got reassigned shortly after so that fell through too. But since Steve, whose memory was as legendary his icon status was, couldn’t remember the guys name, maybe that was the real sign that it wasn’t meant to be.

After that Peggy started looking outside of SHIELD. They all sort of blurred together after a while and nobody was clicking. 

Steve wasn't complaining though. He felt more like he was a part of this time than he had since he came out of the ice. He was getting out and meeting people, doing things he'd never done before, everything from mini-golf to spelunking. Maybe it wasn't a little house with a white picket fence and a passel of kids but he wasn't even sure he wanted those things anymore. That was what the guy that went into the ice wanted. The guy that would have had to compromise who he was to get that life in his own time. Still, he did want something real, someone to come home to and to make a home with. 

So far neither he nor Peggy had come up with anyone viable. 

His latest date had been lunch with an investment banker whose first name was Whitney. He was gorgeous. He was also a conceited, entitled little twat. Steve forced himself to be polite as they ate lunch. It was hard though; the guy talked about nothing but himself and the size of his  trust fund, boring Steve out his skull. 

When it was finally over, Steve beat a hasty retreat to the car and driver waiting to take him back to the tower. But he got restless and asked the driver to pull over; he wanted to walk the rest of the way back. The driver protested and made some vague threats about security protocols. Steve just got out the next time the car stopped and drifted to the sidewalk without a backward glance. 

He needed some time to get the bad taste of Whitney the trust fund asshole out of his mind. So that's what he did, walking a meandering path back to the Tower though he was half a city away. 

The sights, sounds, and smells of Manhattan drew him out of his post date funk pretty quickly. He even pulled out his earbuds and put on the Beatles as he walked. 

He traveled in this way for a while shifting through the crowds of people with ease. He cut an imposing figure with his height and size and the fancy suit he'd donned for the lunch date. Steve remembered a time when people shuffling out of his way like he was a bull in a China shop would have put his back up. But now he just used the opening they created to slip through the sea of humanity the sidewalks barely contained. 

It dawned on him after he'd been walking for about ten minutes that he hadn't picked up a follow detail. Maybe he'd been too quick for the driver to call it in. Still, he kept an eye out for any movement that seemed out of the ordinary. No use being careless just because he wanted to clear his head. 

That's how he noticed the runner. 

The guy was going flat out, like he was being chased by a horde of demons or something. Steve turned and hurtled after him, checking behind to make sure he wasn't actually being chased but he wasn't. It was clear the man was in distress after a moment, so Steve shadowed him. The man ran far further than Steve would have initially guessed he could but he finally ran out of steam, coming to a dead stop right in the middle of the sidewalk. 

When New York's citizens made their displeasure clear, the man moved out of the way, slouching in a crouch against the building behind him. His breathing was erratic and his limbs trembled as the adrenaline and fear ran their course, but the man seemed to be trying to get himself under control. Steve understood panic attacks. He'd had quite a few in his lifetime, he’d had quite a few in this century. His heart went out to the guy; he wanted to help. 

Steve stepped up to the man, his body shading him from the midday sun. Before he could even speak the man let him know what he thought in typical New Yorker fashion. 

"Fuck off." he said, his voice flat and final, waving a dismissive hand for emphasis. 

"Are you okay?" Steve persisted. 

The man heaved an exasperated sigh and looked up at him. Steve's heart dropped into his stomach and he hoped it didn’t show on his face. 

_James Barnes. James Barnes. James Barnes!_

His heart was going a mile a minute as he crouched down putting himself on James' level to take away the stress of a stranger standing over him. 

Steve felt disconnected from reality as he spent the next few minutes trying to coax James out of his panic attack. He hummed with euphoria on the inside as he got James to accept a coffee and more time to talk. 

But Steve stumbled when James formally introduced himself as Bucky. _Bucky._ It was _cute._ It suited the sassy personality of its owner better than the much more formal James.

But something in Steve panicked as he gripped Bucky's outstretched hand, maybe it was the memory of holding that hand in the hospital and confessing his whole being to his unconscious form. Whatever the reason, he grappled with his own name in his head, not able to get it out in an order that made sense even to himself. 

He heard his middle name come first and then his first name but realization dawned and he switched it to Stevens midway, wincing inwardly as the stupid lie came out. It was too late to backtrack once Bucky finished speaking and he just kept going. 

Later, the joy of actually interacting with Bucky having worn off, he lay in bed realizing that at some point he'd have to come clean. Maybe about everything, all the way back to finding James on the sidewalk with his arm pinned beneath rubble. 

It was a sleepless night. 

The texts come the next day. 

James was canceling their date. 

The texts were curt and the words on his screen pained Steve to the core. It made him feel even more like James knew what a fraud Steve is. 

Well, Steve is pretty sure he deserves it. He doesn't know why but he can never seem to get it right where James Barnes is concerned. 

Instead of moping around the flat and having to run into Peggy at the Tower, he packed a bag to head to the upstate facility. There’s a training session in the morning and from there he can head out to the cabin he'd rented before. He's already got a reservation, now that his date is canceled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from the Alicia Keys song of the same name. I thought it appropriate for Steve's pining. 
> 
> Still need a content/mechanical beta. If you're interested, let me know!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments, I really, really appreciate them SO much. :-)
> 
> Does anyone want to follow me? I'm on Twitter: jowithtwoiis (books, stucky, left leaning politics - just so no one is surprised)


	6. Waffles for the Woebegone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky nearly gets an arm. Tony gets a friend. Steve gets a dressing down and a maybe a pick me up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 6 is here folks! I hope you like it. I want to thank the wonderful xPixelx for being a lovely, kind and helpful beta. (Sorry, I don't know how to do links in the notes yet. I'm still getting the hang of this!)

Bucky was cradled in a sensor creche that had been built to test out the neurotransmitters that would interface between his brain and the prosthetic arm that Shuri and Tony were building for him. A mesh caul was draped over his head and down his left side encasing the stump of his left arm. The end of the caul was ringed with a flat string of kimoyo beads that were wirelessly tethered to the whole assembly and sending information to the stations the two geniuses were currently working and arguing at. The entire rig was filled with vibranium enhanced nano-sensors that could read the impulses between his brain and his limb so that when they added the prosthetic, it would function and feel like a real arm. 

Bucky was exhilarated. This weird promise that Tony had made him _(for a kiss!)_ was becoming a reality. But if Bucky was being honest with himself, he was also scared shitless. The testing and fitting had been going on every Friday night for the last two months; the Friday night usually ended with him spending the weekends upstate. He had a suite, albeit a temporary one, at the Avengers facility, along with a badge that let him into the relevant areas of the building without waiting for escorts. He got along with both Shuri and Tony, establishing an easy and effortless banter now that he was over the gobsmacking truth that he was in the presence of both celebrity and royalty at least once a week. 

Still, for all the progress they’d seemed to make over his eight or nine visits to the Prosthesis Lab, Bucky couldn’t quite shake the feeling that if he didn’t know better, Tony was being overly cautious. A few times he and Tony had gotten into it, with Bucky making the case that after all he’d been through, they should just get on with whatever it was they were trying to do. Even Shuri was getting exasperated with Tony and she was pretty patient by comparison.

Bucky wasn’t clear about the hesitation but he was nervous to ask; he didn’t want the outcome of questioning Tony’s resolve to be a delay in the proceedings. He recognized (and could admit, if only to himself) that at this point, the prosthesis was something he wanted so badly that he didn’t want to nudge things in any direction that would jeopardize that. He couldn’t justify it. In a way he almost felt selfish about it: what had he done to deserve this when so many other people needed or wanted it even more than he did?

These questions and fears kept rolling through his mind as he went through his paces with the testing. The set up for the sensor creche was pretty sweet, it served the dual purpose of keeping him entertained when there was downtime and walked him through specific exercises with the neurotransmitter array during testing.

All his favorite playlists were available as well as a truly absurd number of science fiction and fantasy eBooks. But he was currently in the “work” mode of the sensor creche, reclining with one of Stark’s holographic displays floating in front of him. Typing test sentences were displayed above the keyboard in a modern sans serif font face; both his flesh hand and a holographic model of the prosthesis hovered above the interface as Bucky waited to proceed. 

“Ok, Buckaroo, Shuri is going to process the neurotransmission signals and I’m gonna load up the holographic arm. Your keyboard will flash red for five seconds, then you can begin,” Tony called from his work station. 

Bucky watched the holo display carefully, knowing he wouldn’t get any additional verbal cues; they’d learned early on that the minor adrenaline spike from a verbal cue could alter the results. A few seconds later the keyboard turned red and then green, cycling back to its normal blue-tinged white as Bucky proceeded to type. 

Every other time he’d done this something had been off; sometimes it was the holographic arm, sometimes it was the interface, or the wonder twins didn’t get a good neurotransmission map from the activity they were carrying out. 

But today…

Today his fingers flew across the keyboard, both hands working in sync as they never had before. As he watched himself type, a joyous grin broke out on his face. He purposely picked up speed to see if the sensor could keep up with him and it kept pace, matching him keystroke for keystroke. Bucky could feel the pure, hot bubble of triumph coming up through his throat before a heartfelt laugh escaped into the room. In the background, equally joyous whoops of elation coming from the two work stations across the room.

“You realize what this means, Tony?” Shuri said, “We can finally run through the whole test suite and get the arm calibrated. We’re so close!”

Tony flung his work station screen out of the way and jogged to the sensor creche. He beamed down at Bucky, who grinned back.

"So listen, it seems like we might have the neurotransmitters on lock,” Tony started, as he started disengaging the sensor array. 

"You think?" Bucky snarked back. "This was epic! Please tell me we can get to the actual arm now, Tony. You've been poking me and prodding me for two months."

"Two months of making sure the prosthesis will be glitch-free, Mr. Barnes!" Shuri added enthusiastically. "I think it's safe to say that Tony does not want you to have 'janky' tech attached to your body."

"Janky?" Bucky quizzed, as he unsuccessfully suppressed a grin. 

"American slang is ridiculous,” Shuri replied, as she stepped in to help release bucky from the sensor creche, "but so much fun."

She winked at Bucky and continued disconnecting him from the array. Once the caul and the kimoyo beads were removed, Tony asked JARVIS to set Bucky upright. The whole apparatus move into a nearly upright position and unfolded so that Bucky could step down gently to the floor. 

Before he could say anything, Tony spoke up. 

"Get cleaned up, Dexter, throw on some real clothes. We'll talk specifics. Kid Princess and I are gonna run over the numbers one more time."

"Tony-,” Bucky started but the man waved him off. 

With that, Tony spun Shuri around and pushed her down the hall to Bucky knew not where. 

"JARVIS?" 

"Yes, Mr. Barnes?" 

"Is your boss always this…", Bucky floundered for the word. 

" _Vexatious,_ sir?" 

"Sure… _vexatious_ works."

"I suspect, Mr. Barnes, that Mr. Stark cares more about you and the outcome of this project than he would like to admit. Sir’s behavior is,” the AI paused, “erratic at times, especially when strong emotions are involved.”

“Oh,” Bucky said softly. “Thanks, JARVIS.”

“You’re welcome, Mr. Barnes. Can I be of further assistance?” 

Bucky shook his head and realized that he probably needed to make a verbal acknowledgment of the question. 

“No, JARVIS, I’m good. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome, sir.”

Bucky padded out of the lab in his bare feet with a head full of new things to think about.

The shower was a welcome reprieve from the highs and lows of an overly eventful day. Bucky cleaned up quickly and then let the water run over him as he rested his forehead against the tiles until the water temperature became too cool to continue. 

Once out of the shower, he pulled on a soft henley tee, and a pair of medium gray joggers, but left his feet bare. His hair, which had grown out quite a bit since he’d been coming here, had been drawn up in a low messy bun at the back of his head. His facial hair was in not quite a beard mode and he found he didn’t have the time or inclination to keep it shaved. Natasha had told him he looked like a desperate hipster with his long hair and five o’clock shadow. Bucky had shrugged and kept letting his hair grow. Things were changing in his life, so why not change his look as well?

Clean and dressed, Bucky made his way to the common area on the same floor as the guest suites. Tony had been generous in making sure that Bucky was situated on the floor where there was a fully functional kitchen and that it was well stocked. Cooking his meals (as often as he could) was something that helped him feel like this time away from the shop and his home was more normal than it was. So far, it had helped on the days when the prosthesis testing went to shit. It was little touches like this that made Bucky appreciate all that Tony was doing for him.

But when Bucky arrived at the common room, Tony was sitting at the kitchen’s island with a platter of Indian food and a chilled six-pack of beer beside him. 

“I know I’m crashing your food fueled therapy, Captain Hook, but I wanted to have your undivided attention tonight”, Tony said with a shrug.

Bucky pulled up a stool and served himself a plate full of the fragrant and still hot Indian food, waiting until he’d had a few bites and cracked his beer to wave at Tony to continue.

Tony hesitated; Bucky huffed his exasperation.

“I know you’re anxious to move this along”, Tony started again. “But I realized, a while ago actually, that we are probably going to have to hardwire the arm to your body. The neurotransmission links we tested today were a simulation for hardwiring.”

Bucky dropped his fork onto the plate and swiveled on the stool to face Tony head-on. He had already opened his mouth to protest until he took in the man’s body language. Tony Stark, one of the richest, smartest, and most influential men on the planet was sitting with his body and face angled away, cradling a beer, with his shoulders hunched in, trying to make himself seem small, as if it was even possible given how much larger than life he was. Bucky realized then that Tony knew that he didn’t want to have the arm hardwired, that all the time they’d been taking to test and test again was so that he and Shuri could find a way around it. He let out the breath he had pulled to argue.

“I thought we were still testing for a non-invasive method of connection. I know that we talked about surgery initially but I guess I hoped it wouldn’t come to this”, Bucky said in defeat. “I know I said I'd be cool with it, and I really thought I would be, but I don’t want to do that. The hospital, physical therapy…. Again? I _can’t_ do that.”

“I could have Dr. Nakamura come in - “ Tony began but didn’t finish, just trailed off into silence. 

Bucky shook his head. 

“No.”

Tony nodded but his face looked haunted; Bucky could completely commiserate.

“Tony”, he said gently, “everything you’ve done has been beyond any expectations I had. I knew from the beginning that the whole thing was an experiment and that it could potentially yield nothing but useful data sets. To be honest, that’s no small thing. Thousands of people… veterans, accident victims, little kids with congenital issues, could benefit from the research that you and Shuri have done here….”

Tony reached out then and squeezed his right shoulder. Bucky leaned into it a little and Tony followed by leaning over and pulling him into a tight, fierce but brief hug. When they parted Tony coughed and took a hasty sip of his beer. Bucky knew the drill: the typical, I’m too masculine for this, nothing to see here routine. 

They finished the meal in somber but companionable silence. They both pitched in to clean up the myriad empty bottles (there were more than the initial six-pack on the counter by that point); Bucky had enjoyed just being in Tony’s company without all the incessant banter. It was nice to know he had it in him. 

With the cleanup job complete they started to part ways: Tony to another work lab probably and Bucky to his quest suite. 

“Listen”, Tony stopped at the door, "I've been meaning to ask you: if coming to the Tower stresses you out so much why did you reapply for the internship?"

Bucky was mildly surprised by the line of inquiry for a moment. Had Tony been running over everything the whole time they were eating? 

"I didn't reapply for the internship. By that time I'd received the settlement money and was working on getting the bookstore off the ground. I still find it all fascinating but I can't live in that world anymore." Bucky ran his hand through his hair. "Reminds me too much of danger now. I can do this because what you have here is more like a garage than a lab…Anyway, I'd bet anything it was Becca. She was trying to get me 'back in the saddle' for a while after the attack. I just ignored the emails and phone calls until she took the hint." 

Tony nodded, waving a hand a Bucky absently. 

"Can I ask you a question?" Bucky returned, curious about something that had been bothering him for a while, "All that stuff you said in the bar? Was it true?" 

Tony rolled his eyes. 

"I'm making you an arm, Barnes!" 

"No I mean about the scavenger hunt and your gay friend saying I was amazingly hot", Bucky clarified. 

"We were on a scavenger hunt, but the get was to kiss a beautiful stranger. I wanted to make sure it was you and then my mouth got ahead of my brain. As usual. Disaster. Nice kiss though, by the way. I'd consider a walk on that side of the road if you know..." Tony paused, awkward now that he'd made that confession. "I'll find a way to make it non-intrusive. You know I won't quit…You're my people now, Bucky."

Bucky recognized the look on Tony's face, sometimes Natasha got it too when she was doing something that was made of her love for him; it was fierce, defiant, loyal to the core. 

“You and your very gay friend are first-class assholes for tracking me down and ambushing me in the bar, Tony. But… I love you too", he said, folding the eccentric billionaire that had somehow become his friend into a gentle hug. “Don’t ever do any shit like that again or I will introduce myself to Pepper and help her make your life hell.”

Tony sighed with fond exasperation, patting Bucky on the back as he continued. “I’m giving you an arm and you’d team up with her against me? Traitor.”

Bucky let go after a moment and passed through the door to go to his suite and try to get some sleep. 

* * *

 

The digital windows in Bucky's suite transitioned from their opaque, light-blocking phase to their translucent phase just as the sun was beginning to rise. He woke gently as the wan light of the winter morning filtered into his room. He stretched lazily then curled back around his pillow, snuggling under the blankets. He didn’t want to get up; today was going to be his last day at the Avengers Facility. He had to admit that he'd mostly enjoyed his time here, largely because of Tony and Shuri. 

Turning on his back and throwing his arm over his face, Bucky struggled to make sense of his new situation. Now that the project toward getting him an arm was at an end, he felt adrift, as if he’d failed to anchor at some important point in the proceedings and now he’d just float away. Worse, he felt like he’d wasted Tony’s time and talent. He didn’t want to leave on a note that felt this sour. This was a man that had become his friend, a man that was trying to give him an incredible gift and he'd said no like that answer was a luxury he could afford. It felt wrong but when he thought of being back in surgery again after all he went through to get where he was today, he couldn’t quite muster the courage to overcome his fear. 

He was also pretty sure after last night’s conversation with Tony, that Steve Rogers had been at the bar that night. He was the one that pointed Bucky out. That just added to the anger and frustration he felt about Steve lying to him. With a funk brewing in his mind, Bucky threw off the covers and scooted to the edge of the bed, swinging his feet over the edge to contemplate the lush, super soft pile of the carpet that squished between his toes. But before he could sink further into a funk, JARVIS chimed at him.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes. Sir has provided a hot breakfast in the Guest Wing Common Area and requests your presence now that you’re awake.”

“Ok, thanks JARVIS.”

Well, hot breakfast and coffee _(dear, sweet coffee)_ were waiting so he shuffled off to the common room after grabbing a loose, soft sweater to throw on over his tank top. 

Tony was at the island again, dressed in a suit, with crazy colored kicks and one of his ubiquitous band tees. His sunglasses hung from the v-neck of his shirt. He was on the phone making some kind of arrangement for something; Bucky decided to ignore him and concentrate on breakfast. 

There was bacon, eggs, fruit, waffles, two kinds of juice, and coffee with all the fixings. Bucky made a heaping plate for himself along with a cuppa, before sliding onto one of the island’s bar stools to dig in. He was halfway through the plate before Tony came up for air.

“I was gonna try to convince you again but I’ve gotta run. Pepper’s insisting I come to some board meeting. I gave her CEO so I wouldn’t have to do this shit but she asked so nicely. I’m heading back to the city. Look, Tap Out, if you change your mind and decide to go under the knife… I’m here for you kid. You have my number.” 

Tony waltzed out of the common room before Bucky could reply. Well, that had been taken off the table. As bad as he felt about it leaving things like this he knew it would be futile to go after that conversation since there wouldn’t be a satisfactory resolution. Still, he had wanted to say goodbye… maybe even see if Tony just wanted to hang out sometime. Bucky continued to eat slowly. Ruminating on leaving and the state of the project, getting back into one hundred percent bookstore headspace again. Natasha would be glad; the weekends away had been a stretch for everyone on their staff. It would be good to get back into his normal routine, the ebb and flow of book sales, weekends out with his friends, cooking food in his own kitchen. 

Bucky was so lost in thought that he didn’t register the strangled noise that came from the doorway for a few seconds. When it finally did, he came face to face with Steven Grant Rogers aka _Grant Stevens_ aka _Liar Liar Pants on Fire._

Bucky’s fork dropped onto the china plate of its own accord. He had no control over the one working limb on his upper half as he watched Captain _fucking_ America stammer in the doorway. 

_(HUH. What do you know? He seems just as discombobulated as I am.)_

Well, he wasn’t going to let the guy have the upper hand. Bucky had some choice words for _Grant Stevens._ What he had was a piece of his mind for _Grant fucking Stevens._ Picking up his fork and continuing with his breakfast like there really was nothing to see here seemed like a good opening move. He was pleased that his former fake almost date wasn’t the first to recover. He almost hoped that Captain Rogers would leave him alone but a bigger part of him was spoiling for a fight. 

He had _liked_ this guy. After their hangout/rescue in the coffee shop, he would have said yes to Steve Rogers too… if that’s the name he’d been given. Bucky just couldn’t figure the lie. Knowing Cap could pull a whammy like that left a bad taste in his mouth. _(National icon, my ASS!)_

Still, he looked so good standing there in his clingy dark wash blue jeans, plaid button-down with the sleeves rolled up and pair of soft black motorcycle boots. Then there was the fact that if Bucky thought he looked good clean-cut and clean-shaven, then he looked positively _sinful_ with his blond hair grown out and a full beard on his face. 

“Hi, Bucky”, Steve said as he stuffed both hands into his pockets.

Bucky made a show of looking up and realizing who was speaking.

“Hi, _Grant.”_

“Oh... “ Steve trailed off, a faint flush creeping up his _(beautiful)_ neck. 

“Yeah. Oh.” Bucky snapped back. “Care to tell me what that was all about?”

Steve stepped forward and Bucky held up his bite of waffle like it was Cap’s shield and could deflect whatever the man threw his way next. 

“You’re good right there,'' he said in warning. “That’s as close as I want to get to people who offer pity dates and false names.”

“I panicked. I couldn’t believe I was finally talking to you and my brain just short-circuited...” Steve began in explanation.

Bucky was not trying to hear this. _(What the actual fuck, Steve!?)_

“What do you mean, you were finally talking to me?” Bucky asked, confusion replacing his hurt and anger, “We’ve never met before. How could you be thrown by ‘finally’ talking to me?”

Steve floundered again. “Fuck!”

"No, explanations and then not until at least the third date", Bucky drawled. 

Steve stepped closer once again putting his hands up as if could placate him. 

"I…" Steve swallowed and stuffed his hands back into his pockets. "I pulled you out of the rubble."

The fork dropped into the plate again. Bucky made no move to pick it up 

"What?" he said tonelessly. "What are you talking about? Search and Rescue pulled me out. Dr. Nakamura and her team took over once they cleared the rubble."

Bucky was shaking his head in disbelief. He  _knew_ what had happened. Dr. Nakamura had told him everything. 

"There were still hostiles in the area, I was sweeping the street for signs of more activity and I heard someone crying for help. When I dug out the pile of rubble, you were there… I made sure you weren't bleeding out and held on to you while Dr. Nakamura and her team were en route. I rode the medic transport with you and stayed with you until… Until they kicked me out."

Bucky was standing now, his hand balled into a fist. This wasn't true, was it? That he owed Captain America his life? It was almost too much. Of all the things! Why did Avengers keep getting caught up in his life? They were everywhere, touching everything. 

"God, you're all like a contagion that keeps mutating every time you think you've got a handle on it", Bucky said almost to himself. 

Steve seemed to hear; he uttered a sound of intense disapproval.  

Well, Bucky had more or less called him and his friends a walking disease. Bucky cleared his throat. 

"Thank you... For saving my life" He said, saccharine sweet, but when he continued his tone was sour, disappointed, "And, I'm guessing, for paying my medical bills, and setting me up with the settlement. What was that? Pity? Guilt?" 

When Steve started to answer, Bucky cut him off with a vicious slash of his hand in the air between them. 

"Enough! Tony told me about the scavenger hunt. I made the connection, you know? That it must have been you that picked me out of the crowd that night. I'm still confused about why Tony was the one to approach me. Did you plan it? Were you lying in wait for the poor amputee to show up so you could make me a part of whatever game you've all been playing with my life? Did you know your scary British friend threatened me with a _shovel talk_ the first time I showed up here?"

“I didn’t know Peggy even knew who you were. I should have though; she seems to know everything,” Steve said, with some heat of his own.

Bucky said nothing, afraid to go on but so, so angry. A dim part of him knew that this anger wasn't all for Steve but he was the available outlet and damn was Bucky going to let it out. He knew it was petty and little ( _he was dressing down Captain fucking America!)_ but he couldn't quite face him because of that. Bucky stared at the floor trembling with a cocktail of volatile emotions. He couldn't look Steve in the eye, not now. 

Surprisingly Steve was gentle when he replied. 

"I wouldn't say we're a disease but we're fighters, warriors; we tend to be rough and manhandle things when it's not warranted." He paused, rubbing his hands over his face. "I am beyond sorry for hurting you. I never meant to do that. All I wanted was to meet you and get to know you. When I showed up at the hospital to see you after you woke up, they told me no one but the family could get in and I just…. Walked away. Chickened out. Like I’ve ever run away from a fight in my life."

Steve took a step closer and gently placed his hands on Bucky's shoulders. 

"I didn't want to introduce myself as Captain America. I wanted to introduce myself as Steve Rogers, a guy who thought he'd rescued the most beautiful man he'd ever seen and just wanted to take that beautiful guy out for a coffee. There's no way, I could have walked into that hospital room and been anything but my title. So, I did what I could to help, because I have a really bad habit of rescuing people if you'll remember." 

He tilted Bucky's head up so he could look him in the eyes.

"I really did panic when you introduced yourself at the coffee shop and, of course, when I got the chance to come clean, I blew it and that's on me. But I'm standing in front of you now, saying please give me another chance. I promise I'll get it right this time."

Bucky sort of let the well of gravity that was Steve Rogers lure him into his orbit; his head fell forward and landed on Steve’s chest. This wasn't a capitulation or anything, he was just getting his bearings. A lot had happened in the last twenty-four hours and Bucky just wanted a lie down at this point. 

Thankfully, the errant supersoldier made no move to increase their contact.  Which was good because Bucky was still unhappy with the guy. Oh, he'd accept Steve's apology, but he was going to have to prove he wasn't a douche-waffle. 

Bucky shook himself free of Steve's loose hold, stepping back to the table to finish his breakfast. 

"Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" he said, taking up the neglected and oft dropped fork again. 

He side-eyed Steve as the man shoved his hands back into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders slightly hunched. 

"HI, Bucky," Steve began, "I'm Steve Rogers. It's nice to meet you."

Bucky put down his fork again. When he finished chewing and swallowed his bite, he washed it down with some orange juice and held out his hand.

"My friends call me Bucky. You can call me James."

Steve reached out tentatively and shook James' hand. 

"Okay," he answered, acknowledging that he'd taken a step back in Bucky's… James' eyes. "Do you mind if I join you for breakfast?" 

Bucky nodded once and continued eating without additional comment. Steve loaded up two heaping plates before sitting on the barstool next to Bucky. They ate in somewhat companionable silence for a few minutes before Bucky waved his fork at Steve's _plates._ Plural. 

"Uh… You hungry or what?" he asked, incredulous. 

Steve grinned ruefully, "I'm a supersoldier. My metabolism is super fast. I don't eat enough, well, it's bad for everyone."

"So you get hangry." It wasn't really a question. "Do you know what that means?" 

"Yes, Bu- James, I know what hangry means. I'm a centenarian not dead. I know what the kids are saying these days," Steve returned with a put upon huff. 

Bucky snickered. 

"Oh? What are the _kids_ saying these days?" Bucky said, barely containing his laughter. 

"You know what, Barnes?" Steve mock threatened, also trying not to laugh. 

"What, _Rogers_? You think you can take me?" Bucky turned up his chin defiantly, daring Steve to… What? He didn't even know. 

"Yeah," Steve said softly, looking him over with a blush creeping up his cheeks. "I definitely could."

 _Well._ _FUCK…_ He suddenly realized that he wasn't going to stay mad at this guy for as long as he probably deserved. 

Bucky turned back to his breakfast with determination. He was pretty sure Steve could take him too. 

But not yet. Not yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates 08/21/2019: I am sorry for the delay in the next chapter coming out. In the spirit of full disclosure, I hit some serious writers' block and then I became ill and discovered I will have to have surgery in the coming weeks. I promise Chapter 7 is coming! I am working on it (with a lovely push from xPixelx) and will get it out as soon as I possibly can. 
> 
> In my mind Bucky is listening to a lot of Arctic Monkeys, Block Party, Doves, Elbow, etc. while he's hanging out with Tony. He's not quite hardcore enough for the hard rock and metal that Tony listens too; he needs something a little more melodic and emo? Because we all know that modern Bucky is a hopeless hipster at heart. (I realize these bands are telling my age a bit but I seriously don't know of any equivalents that are newer. Enlighten me? I'm always down for new music. Caveat here: if your recommended band doesn't know what a minor chord is, please, please don't tell me!)
> 
> The next chapter = DATE MAGIC. Until next time!
> 
> Comments and kudos are fuel for the fire, so please feel free to light me up. :-)


	7. Made of Rainbows, Unicorns, and Billionaires

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha and Peggy meet, Sam gives Bucky what for, Steve and Bucky go on their date, and Natasha makes a move.

Peggy sauntered into War of the Words on a Friday afternoon when she knew James would be upstate with Stark working on his prosthetic. After talking with Barnes in the lobby of the Avenger’s upstate facility, she was intrigued by his very brave dismissal of her overt threat to have him buried back under the rubble Steve had found him under.

 

The thing was, Steve really liked this guy and she wanted to make sure that he was worth it. And find out what had happened to make the man so unhappy that he’d called Steve a liar. 

 

This was Steve. He didn’t lie. Not really. Not when it mattered. 

 

Her initial attempts to get the truth out of Steve proved fruitless; he was especially obstinate in this instance because he had (not incorrectly) perceived that she and Tony already had something to do with the proceedings. When a primary source fails you go to secondary and tertiary sources to find another way forward.

 

Peggy entered the back “Employees Only” area as if she belonged there and followed the hallway to the two offices which sat across from each other. The one on the left was open with the lights off, the one on the right was closed with the lights on. Peggy lightly rapped on the door and entered without waiting for a response.

 

Natasha Romanova was sitting at her desk typing into the laptop there but Peggy could tell that the woman had known that someone she didn’t know was coming up the hallway. She slumped onto the door frame crossing her arms.

 

“I assume you know who I am?” she said without preamble.

 

Natasha shrugged. “I know your reputation...”

 

She trailed off in that way of saying “needless to say” without actually saying it the way Americans often did.

 

“I wish I could say the same.” Peggy returned lightly. 

 

“No you don’t. We wouldn’t be talking if you did. Then I’d be too much like you for comfort. I couldn’t be too close to your boy then.” Natasha paused for effect, “Not even by association. A little bit like the way you’ve tried to get to mine.”

 

And that was the heart of the matter, wasn’t it?

 

“I care about Steve, as much as someone like me can care about anyone. I want him to be happy and enjoy this because unlike some of us, he’s actually capable of that given the right person and circumstances. I’m not sure about Barnes, so convince me I don’t need to worry”, Peggy replied in a tone that suggested Romanova be reasonable.

 

The woman laughed but it didn’t reach her eyes.

 

“God, if the world only knew we’re being protected by monsters” Natasha replied sadly.

 

“Just so.” Peggy said less evenly. 

 

“James doesn’t need to prove himself, he’s good and true. He and his family kept me from becoming an animal on the streets of St. Petersburg. I owe him everything. I won’t let you or Steven Rogers or Tony Stark destroy him again. Once was enough, don’t you think?” Natasha nearly snarled, low and furious.

 

“Calm down, little kitten”, Peggy soothed, “I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

 

Peggy let it dangle. Romanova did not bother to answer. She really liked this woman, only her training kept her from smiling at the lack of reply. 

 

“If you ever want to learn how to back up your threats, come to the Tower. Tell JARVIS that you’re there to see me.” 

 

Peggy uncoiled from the door frame, deliberately showing the knife she was holding and putting it back where it belonged. Natasha huffed a small, mirthless laugh. Peggy smirked in response.

 

“I left that life of violence behind when the Barnes’ rescued me,” Natasha finally said. 

 

“That’s no reason to make sloppy threats though, now is it?” Peggy replied as she turned to leave.

 

As she walked back down the hallway, she heard Natasha’s muted reply.

 

“No, it isn’t.”

* * *

 

"So, let me get this straight… You've spent time with Tony Stark and you've met Peggy Carter and Steve Rogers?" Sam Wilson took a sip of his orange juice while he waited for Bucky to answer. 

 

His friend nodded and Sam sighed. 

 

Bucky waited impatiently for Sam to continue. The two of them were holed up in the back corner booth of their favorite diner catching up since they hadn’t seen each other for two months. A pretty healthy spread of completely unhealthy foodd was on the table between them. Sam was busy with his Eggs Benedict now and Bucky was, as usual, chowing down on waffles which were his not-so-good-for-you-breakfast favorite.  _ (This particular waffle might have had more butter and syrup and blueberries than was strictly necessary but who was judging?) _

 

"And you've waited until now to tell me because you don't really believe it yourself?” Sam used air quotes as he continued. “‘That a playboy, billionaire, philanthropist, genius, superhero’ would want to give you an arm?”

 

Bucky nodded again.

 

“First,'' Sam said in an exasperated tone, “I can’t believe Tony Stark called himself that. Wait, yes I can.”

 

“And?” Bucky said anxiously, wondering why  _ that  _ was the takeaway from what he’d said.

 

“Natasha is right.” Sam said around another sigh. “You are hopeless.”

 

“How am I hopeless?” Bucky asked in an injured tone. “This is some pretty incredible stuff and I’m  _ overwhelmed  _ for fuck’s sake!”

 

Sam waved a dismissive hand at Bucky and continued eating his breakfast.

 

“Dramatic too.” Sam said once he’d finished chewing another bite of his Eggs Benedict.

 

Bucky threw up his hands in frustration.

 

“Really, Sam?”

 

“Yeah, really Bucky. You do this a lot. You do realize that, don’t you? Get frantic and lose perspective until someone, Natasha, yours truly, swoops in and screws your head back on straight. Plus, I’m pretty sure it’s really happening because Tony Stark has been blowing up your phone and dropping by your shop with spectacular takeout ever since you turned down his offer of a state of the art prosthesis.” Sam paused to look up from his plate meaningfully. “Did I miss anything?”

 

Bucky rolled his eyes.

 

“Natasha is a traitor. She tells you  _ everything _ !” 

 

“Yeah, she likes me better.” Sam smirked. “But  _ you  _ haven’t told me everything… Have you?”

 

Bucky glanced up, trying to paste an innocent smile on his face.

 

“Before you even open your mouth…" Sam drawled, his hand up in a talk to the hand gesture," consider that I've been getting my information from  _ Natasha. _ "

 

It was Bucky's turn to sigh. 

 

"Steve Rogers asked me out on a date," he said, with all the enthusiasm of child confessing that they stole the cookies from the jar. 

 

"And…" Sam prompted. 

 

"Why do I even have to tell you if you know already?" Bucky said in an exasperated tone. "It feels like I'm repeating myself."

 

"You  _ would _ be repeating yourself if you'd been a good friend and come to me in the first place. Since I had to hear it from  _ Natasha,  _ you get to tell me all over again.”

 

Sam grinned at him devilishly. He was enjoying this too much. Usually Sam's smile was infectious and Bucky loved his no nonsense attitude but at moments like these, when he's being charming and absolutely annoying at the same time, Bucky wants to strangle the life out of him.

 

But…Even he could admit that he’d been a horrible friend (if only to himself, Sam would  _ never  _ hear that). He had to make up for keeping Sam in the dark and not seeing or calling him for two months. 

 

Bucky stirred his coffee to stall for a moment. He knew Sam would help him through this, like he always did. He was the voice of reason in their friends group and always gave his advice in a no bullshit manner while still respecting your feelings; he could say the hard things you needed to hear and not make you feel like a piece of shit about it. 

 

But first… Bucky had to be honest about why he was up in arms. 

 

"Steve…" Bucky started but stopped again when he realized that he was at a loss. 

 

"Yes, Steve?" Sam prompted again. When Bucky didn't answer for a few moments, Sam put down his fork and sat forward. 

 

"Look man, it's a date. Where you get to figure out if he's someone you want to spend more time with. You already gave him permission to ask  _ after  _ he apologized for fucking up. Give the guy a break. Go do the date.  _ Then _ come see me with all this angst you've got going on over there. And, " he cautioned, "try not mix up your issues with the arm and your budding relationship with Steve. Maybe the people involved are related but the issues aren't.”

 

Sam sat back and took a sip of his coffee. 

 

( _ Damn. Sam is right. And now I have to ADMIT he’s right. Fuck my life!) _

 

"You're right, Sam," Bucky admitted grudgingly. "Just do it. See what happens and go from there. Agonizing over all of this is just making me crazy. Ugh." 

 

"Of course I'm right.” Sam huffed and continued his breakfast. “Now, on to more important issues. Are you hosting the Christmas party this year or am I?”

 

Bucky laughed.

 

“It’s your turn, man!” he cried, “I did it last year. I will bring snacks and show up looking pretty but I am not planning the friends’ Christmas bash this year. No way. No how.  _ Not  _ happening.”

 

“But you kinda owe me, don’t you?” Sam said as he looked up through his lashes, trying not to laugh. Bucky turned a color that could be described as ‘not natural’; he was pretty sure he was whatever color outrage was because he could tell Sam was not really kidding.  _ (Well, fuck!) _

 

“Oh my God! You  _ SUCK!”  _ Bucky flung a blueberry from his waffle at Sam in protest but Sam just ducked out of the way, laughing.

 

“I’ll let Natasha know. She’s going to be thrilled!” Sam replied through his laughter.

 

“Do not say a word to her. That Russian will kill me if I even think about asking for her help.” Bucky replied woefully. 

 

“Yeah, payback is a bitch.” Sam said as his laughter subsided. “Aint it?”

* * *

**Redhead of Doom: What is this I hear about us hosting the Christmas party? At the store?**

**Ballerina Barnes: I’m going to kill Sam!**

**Redhead of Doom: That’s not a denial, Barnes.**

**Ballerina Barnes: ...**

**Redhead of Doom: Make it good…**

**Ballerina Barnes: I’m a failure as a friend and human being and this is my punishment?**

**Redhead of Doom: It’s okay, I’m going to kill Sam for you.**

**Ballerina Barnes: Better him than me.**

**Redhead of Doom: Who said you were off the hook?**

**Ballerina Barnes: 😢**

* * *

 

Bucky had been back at the store for four days when Tony arrived with pizza and sodas. He left four boxes in the break room for the staff but brought two boxes into Bucky’s office after knocking on Natasha’s door and demanding she join them. She followed after Tony into her friend and co-owner’s office with a look of fond exasperation on her face. The three of them sat down and around Bucky’s desk and wolfed down pizza and Cokes. It was silent except for the occasional mumble of ‘Mmm, good’ or smacked lips. 

 

Natasha finished first. She sat back in her chair and patted her stomach.

 

“I don’t think I’m going to be able to move from this chair, James,” she said with a groan. 

 

Tony chuckled. 

 

“So, aside from feeding us the best fucking pizza I’ve ever had, what brings you, Tony?” Bucky said around the last bite of his crust. “Not that I mind seeing you in the least….”

 

Tony waved, still chewing on a rather large bite of pizza. When he had swallowed enough, he continued.

 

“A little birdy told me you were throwing a christmas party.”

 

Natasha wadded up her leftover napkins into two balls and lobbed half at Tony’s head and the other half at Bucky’s. 

 

“Hey!” they both cried in unison before dissolving into laughter. 

 

“Well, you didn’t hear wrong. I’m scrambling to come up with something…. I hosted last year, so it was supposed to be someone else’s turn but…”

 

“But you were a little shit and Sam pulled his 'you owe me' card and here we are”, Natasha said drily. 

 

Tony leaned forward in his seat. “I think I can help with that.”

 

“No!” Bucky and Natasha both said at the same time. 

 

“It’s kind of an out for you though, right? I mean, I pony up the space and the booze and the state of the art invites. You show up looking the handsome, one armed devil that you are with America’s Ass on your arm and everyone wins.”

 

Bucky sighed as he wiped cheese from the corner of his mouth. He narrowed his eyes at Tony and gave him a look. 

 

“First,” Bucky said, ticking points off on his hands, “I am not making my first date with Steve Rogers  _ your  _ Christmas party. Second, which little birdy told you? Third, what’s in it for you?”

 

Tony smirked, taking another bite of his pizza before answering while chewing. He ducked another Natasha tossed napkin.

 

“I love the glacial pace you’ve set for your romance with Capsicle. Look, show up, look pretty, snog your boy under the mistletoe and forget your woes. I get to spend extravagant amounts of money on booze and food, write it off as a corporate expense. Plus, it’ll be worth it to see Cap in something other than khakis and button downs.”

 

Bucky eyed Tony wearily, trying to remember why he thought they were friends.

 

“And I have to do what, exactly?” he said. “Give you my firstborn?”

 

“Make that happen with Steve and I’ll throw all your christmas parties.”

 

Natasha laughed at Stark.

 

“You are a menace. Get out. We have work to do.” She got up and kissed him on his stubbled cheek, at which the soft hearted billionaire waggled his eyebrows at Bucky. Bucky laughed then too coming around the desk to help Tasha bustle Tony out of the door. 

 

“And try not to steal all my clerks on the way out,” Bucky called. 

* * *

**James Barnes: I've been informed by several well meaning people that relenting can be a freeing experience.**

**I'll Grant Your Steven: Sunday, 2pm?**

**James Barnes: Uh…**

**James Barnes: No explanation needed, huh?**

**I'll Grant Your Steven:...**

**James Barnes: OK?**

**I'll Grant Your Steven: I'll pick you up at the War of the Words. Wear something comfortable.**

* * *

Here's what Bucky remembers:

 

Trying to wrangle his way onto the back of Steve's bike and being beyond annoyed because it's fucking  _ hard  _ to follow proper bike etiquette when you're missing your left arm. 

 

He remembers the feeling of Steve zipping through traffic, Bucky pressed to his back, feeling the heat of Steve's body and the strange and sudden dips in temperature as the wind rushed past them. It was exhilarating and unnerving that a man as large as Steve, driving a bike as large as his, could speed so fast in Manhattan. Bucky had  _ questions _ . 

 

Steve smelled woodsy and clean and Bucky wanted to stay curled against him on the back of his giant motorcycle forever. For a brief moment he had a fantasy of Steve quitting being the protector of, well, everyone and running away with him to someplace quiet on the back of this bike. But only for a moment. Natasha would never forgive him. 

 

He was temporarily bereft as they dismounted the bike, Steve helping him dismount by placing his hand on the small of Bucky's back. It felt warm and huge, as if he wasn't just guiding him but also leaving a mark on Bucky's body and it was  _ so good.  _ The thought crossed his mind that he might want Steve to kiss him and he didn't even know where they were going or what they were doing. 

 

They passed a Starbucks on the corner of the street they turned onto and Bucky had nearly walked backwards as he gazed longingly at said establishment. Steve had laughed at him, called him a fiend. Bucky had pouted and Steve's answering smile was fond. 

 

"We have a reservation, James."

 

"Oh…?" He stopped short. Steve grabbed his hand and drew him forward. 

 

The building was painted white and adorned with dots and stripes across its facade providing a happy, precocious counterpoint to the dull urban surroundings. 

 

But inside…. 

 

Inside was a riot of color, a playground for the senses. They walked a room sized flowchart to find their personalized colors (Steve was Stalwart Navy, Bucky's was Rogue Red), jumped in a pale mint colored ball pit laughing giddily the whole time, they walked corridors painted in a rainbow profusion, ate color coded macaroons (delicious to Bucky, too sweet for Steve), took silly pictures in one of the photo booths and showed each other the lovely, innocent wishes of children printed on iridescent balloons. 

 

It was a riot of sensation and experience and he loved every second. Bucky couldn't remember having so much fun in public in a single hour in his entire life. 

 

Afterward, Steve took pity on him; steered him to the Starbucks on the corner, ordering coffee and a couple of snack boxes. 

 

He remembers the smile on Steve's face as they sat and gushed to each other about the wonders of The Color Factory. 

 

They talked for hours. 

 

Steve doodled on a napkins with a pen that he borrowed from one of the baristas: one of a rainbow made of geometric shapes instead of colors, one was an axonometric drawing of a macaron, and finally one of Bucky with his hair falling out of his bun and sweet smile playing across the corner of his lips as he leaned forward on the tiny table between them and sipped his drink. 

 

Steve liked Marvin Gaye and The Beatles. Nina Simone and Billy Eilish and a lot in between. He leaned in close as they listened to Bucky's favorite Hics song, sharing earbuds over his iPhone. 

 

Steve still hadn't seen the Godfather but had watched The Princess Bride and Secondhand Lions so many times he could quote lines right along with Bucky. 

 

He told Steve about his love for books that took him to new worlds and why he'd chosen the store as a way to get back into living after the Battle of New York. How he and Natasha had picked the name after arguing about what to call the place for weeks until one of them (Natasha but Bucky always took credit) punned War of the Words and that was that. 

 

They commiserate over how annoying and utterly disarming Tony can be with his brusk exterior and his melted marshmallow interior. They were both onto the man, who seemed clueless in the most clever way possible. Bucky had to tell Steve to stand down when he explained that Tony had become a fixture in the store and was probably going to end up stealing Peter away from him when his favorite book clerk graduated from college. 

 

They even talked about the arm. Bucky explained why he'd been there and why he wasn't using the prosthesis now. Steve had gently squeezed his shoulder ( _ yeah, that side _ ) and said "Only you can make this decision but I know Tony will do whatever he can to make it easier for you." 

 

Bucky had nodded, he knew that too. But it was still too much, too soon. 

 

It wasn't long after this that they noticed the baristas moving chairs onto tables, sweeping, getting everything cleaned up in preparation to close down. 

 

Then Steve had walked him back to the bike and drove him home, over the bridge into Brooklyn and walked him up to his stoop. 

 

They'd stared at each other in the soft glow of the streetlight. Bucky blinked first. 

 

Steve closed the distance between them enfolding him in a warm, soft hug. 

 

"Goodnight, James," Steve murmured against his ear, the sound a silky, sibilant caress. 

 

Bucky remembers humming contentedly, and the oddly sharp disappointment when Steve pulled away to tuck some loose curls behind his ear. It wasn't a kiss… 

 

"You can call me Bucky." It was the only answer he could give after the day they'd had. 

 

Bucky just wasn't mad anymore and maybe wondered a little why he ever was. 

* * *

Bucky talks about Steve all week.

 

Literally  _ all  _ he talks about was his date with Steve. 

 

Steve this.

 

Steve that.

 

Natasha had it up to her eyes with Steven Grant Rogers by the time the week had come to a close, so on Sunday she made her way to the Avengers Tower, strolling into the lobby in four inch heeled boots, a turtleneck body con dress made of fine gauge superwash wool, and a cashmere wrap coat all in deep black; her red hair shone like a beacon in contrast. She stopped a few feet away from the front desk with both hands firmly curled into her pockets.

 

“Natasha Romanova for Peggy Carter,” she said to the guard.

 

“One moment please," the guard said. He eyed her warily as he tapped something into the flat screen built into the desk bank. A few seconds later he blinked up at her in surprise, his mouth dropped open in stark disbelief. “Umm… it looks like you’re cleared to go up to the Avengers’ floors. I’ll let Agent Carter know you’re coming. Please proceed to elevator bank C, Ms. Romanova.”

 

Natasha winked at him with a slow grin and he hastily pretended to be doing something else besides giving her side eye. She sauntered over to elevator bank C, which was standing open and waiting.

 

“Good evening, Ms. Romanova. Agent Carter will meet you on the 93rd Floor.” The voice spoke in a crisp British accent. Natasha stepped into the elevator but casually gazed around. 

 

“I am an artificial intelligence, Ms. Romanova. I am not actually present in the lift. My name is JARVIS. If you require anything, simply ask. I will accommodate your requests as long as they do not interfere with the parameters set by Agent Carter or Mr. Stark.”

 

Natasha hummed thoughtfully in response but made no other answer. A few seconds later the doors of the elevator opened on the 93rd floor and Peggy Carter was there in the waiting area just outside the doors. Natasha stepped out and stopped just outside of arm’s reach.

 

Peggy chuckled.

 

“Did you come to spar or go on a date?” Peggy said, eyeing the elegant outfit that Natasha was wearing.

 

“Isn’t that the same thing?” Natasha answered.

 

“If it is, you’re doing it wrong.” Peggy shot back with a smirk.

 

“Or really, really right…” Natasha trailed off as she followed Peggy, leaving that open for interpretation.

 

“You don’t have to flirt with me, you know.” Peggy turned towards her abruptly and Natasha stopped, again just out of arm’s reach. Peggy gave her a small smile of approval. “You are paying attention aren’t you? Sure you don’t want to learn how to be a spy?”

 

Natasha didn’t reply, just waited patiently. At which Peggy laughed out loud. 

 

“I’m really beginning to like you and" Peggy said casually as she slipped inside Natasha's personal space so fast that she didn't even have time to blink, "it'll be much more fun to be friends."

 

Natasha's breath was unsteady as she replied. 

 

"You can let go of my waist now, Agent Carter."

 

"Call me Peggy," the woman answered lightly, stepping away as asked. 

 

She beckoned for Natasha to follow her, so she complied taking note of every twist and turn on their meandering path to wherever  _ Peggy  _ was leading her. 

 

They came to a halt just inside a set of double doors that were plain, unmarked white painted metal on the outside but were made of a dark rich wood, or at least made to look like it, on the inside. The whole room was paneled this way from the ceiling, which was very high, down to about the chest height of a six foot tall man. Below that level was black matting that extended across the entire floor, except for a walkway along the wall opposite the door. None of it looked reassuringly soft. Rather it gave the impression that extremely fit people worked out here and that the padding was to make sure no serious injuries happened but just barely. It was sizeable and cozy at the same time. Natasha figured six to eight partners could spar comfortably without crossing into each other. Additionally, there were two cases on the walls to the left and right with an interesting variety of weapons in them. 

 

"The changing rooms are in the back. I'll let you borrow something of mine."

 

Peggy walked across the mats to the doors set into the back wall. Natasha also walked across. The mats were softer than they looked. She still managed to make it across without twisting an ankle, losing her balance, or otherwise making a fool of herself. 

 

She was quite pleased about it is she was being honest but when she looked up, Peggy smirked at her. 

 

"Let's see if we can get you out of those clothes shall we?"

 

Peggy entered the changing room door without looking back and Natasha rolled her eyes. She was either beginning to like Peggy Carter or she was going to kill her. 

 

An hour later, Natasha lay on the mats, sweating like she'd run a marathon. Peggy stood over her with a lazy grin on her face. 

 

“That was… challenging,” Natasha huffed out breathily.

 

“Oh?” Peggy returned, amused.

 

“Don’t tell me, that was the ‘easy’ workout.”

 

Peggy was silent. Natasha shifted to a sitting position and quirked an eyebrow, managing to catch the bottle of water that Peggy tossed at her gracefully. 

 

“You just said not to tell you,” Peggy said with a grin. 

 

“Ugh.” 

 

Peggy laughed. 

 

“Come on, Natalia! I’ll buy you dinner.” Peggy waved towards the double doors behind them. Natasha followed and they both made their way into the locker room to shower and change into their street clothes. 

 

Peggy was waiting in the hallway when Natasha emerged carrying her boots. Peggy smiled. Natasha scowled. 

 

“What? I didn’t want to break my ankle on that padding” she said, in her own defense. 

 

Peggy just looked on in undisguised amusement as Natasha put on her boots, not moving or making a comment when Natasha leaned on her to pull them up and zip them. When she straightened up, she didn’t move away. 

 

“I don’t want to play anymore,'' she said without any shame. 

 

“Then we won’t," Peggy returned, slipping her arm around Natasha's waist. "But first, we eat.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you miss me? I missed you! And I've felt so bad for leaving you all hanging so long but life sort of handed me my ass and then kicked me while I was down. Things are not really better but... I couldn't leave you all hanging like that. Besides, I've committed to NaNoWriMo again this year and since I'm writing already... It follows that I should finish this baby up!
> 
> Special thanks to the lovely xPixelx for her beta work! I don't think this chapter would have ever made it out my brain without her gentle bit firm guidance. (She's posting some amazing artwork for Stucky fics so go check her out).
> 
> The Color Factory is a real place in NYC that I'm dying to check out if I ever get back to visit that wonderful city. They also have outposts in San Francisco and a recently opened space in Houston. Check them out if you'll be in any of those lovely places. 
> 
> That's all from me for now. I hope you all enjoy the chapter. Definitely let me know your thoughts because I appreciate them all!


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